


Cute

by mssjynx



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Pastel, Alternate Universe - Punk, Banana Bus Squad - Freeform, Cute, Flirting, Fluff, H2OVanoss - Freeform, Homophobia, Jon has gay moms no one can stop me, Multi, Pastel!Jonathon, Polyamory, Punk!Evan, Slurs, Strangers to Lovers, get ready for that, short fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 01:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 113,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12332808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssjynx/pseuds/mssjynx
Summary: h2ovanoss fic - pastel!punk! highschool auJon's got a pretty golden life.Six amazingly stupid friends, two beautiful moms and a pretty plain high school schedule; there isn't much for him to be upset about.Evan is your usual bad-boy cliche and manages to put a dreamy look in Jon's eye anytime he's in the room. With the help of a few detentions, a history project and his painful friends trying to make things difficult; the pastel and the punk end up stuck with one another more than they expect. Jon isn't about to complain.Brock and Brian stumbling around blind.Lucas who goes brain-dead at the mere sight of John.Scotty who couldn't just fall for one punk, but had to fall for two.And Craig and Suni are there to make fun of them all.Jon couldn't have asked for a better family. And with a boy like Evan? It seems that everything's working out in the best possible way.It's a shame his golden life can't always be perfect.





	1. flower boy

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Less dramatic and complex fic - this one's just for fun, cute times.  
> Hope you enjoy, let me know what you think of it, let me know what you want from it. It's not going to be a long story, not more than maybe five chapters seeing as I'll probably be making them long. It's just a cute bundle of fluff without drama or intense plots.
> 
> \-- this fic is central to h2ovanoss as a ship but includes several other ships as you get to know characters!
> 
> Enjoy your stay and feel free to leave feedback!  
> gi
> 
> EDIT [ 5/4/18 ] - currently on chapter 22 -  
> ok so maybe not a five chapter story....  
> aaand got a little more intense than it was supposed to........  
> hehe..  
> hope you enjoy the journey!

**1.**

Jonathon loved the idea of “cute”. It was just a word, a short adjective to define something or someone that was pleasantly attractive, often small, often capable of eliciting high-pitched sounds from people, commonly an “aww” of some sort. Some globally “cute” things were: children (especially babies), animals (especially babies), colours like pinks, blues and yellows, fluffy things, toys (especially toy animals with big eyes), etc. There were a lot of cute things in the world and Jon was a _sucker_ for cute things.

He especially loved to look cute, and be called cute. He was fortunate (for that reason) because of his big blue eyes that sparkled with excitement. People would point them out a lot; “Your eyes are so pretty!” and “Wow, you’re eyes are so big.” It was what drew attention when people looked at him and he didn’t mind it – he liked them too.

What he loved especially was cute clothing. Each day he tried to find something colourful and cute to wear. He felt most comfortable with himself when wearing colours; quite opposite to most teens who wore black, and played guitar, and didn’t wear colours because everyone these days was having an emo phase. He liked the concept of dark clothing, and piercings, and tattoos, but also knew they weren’t his style. It was predictable, unoriginal and it never looked good on him.

He stuck with cute.

Jonathon’s baby blues danced with indecision, his face up close to the mirror as he inspected his hair. His thin fingers fiddled with the lengthy strands of dark chocolate, pulling them down and pushing them back over his face. Nestled on the top sat the focus of his uncertainty: a flower crown. Little fake roses with alternatively pink and yellow colouring threaded onto a halo which sat like a crown.

His uncertainty was not about how the accessory looked on him (he thought it definitely made him look pretty and wanted to wear it _everywhere_ ). His concerns were aimed at what others would think or do, especially when wearing it to school. At the ripe age of seventeen, everyone simply loved to make their opinions clear, ~~even~~ especially when unwanted.

Unfortunately, he got it bad enough. His love of cute things got the instant reputation of “girly boy” and after actually coming out as gay, he got more shit for being supposedly stereotypical. He wouldn’t call it bullying, nor would he ever actually get bothered by it. All he really hated was the loose, careless use of slurs when people thought he couldn’t hear, or when they knew he could. It never got worse than that, no confrontation or violence thankfully.

His phone started up on his bed beside him and he turned away from his reflection to pick up the device with a little sigh. He didn’t _really_ care what anyone thought of his appearance or sexuality, he just didn’t want the flower crown to make anything worse for him.

The message glowed on his screen and he couldn’t bite back the amused smirk. **Quit checking yourself out and get down here – I’m sure you look adorable, but if you aren’t in my car in ninety seconds you’re walking!** The fact that Brock was accurate in Jon’s actions made him laugh to himself as he grabbed his bag, sparing one last glance at his reflection before leaving the room.

He hopped down the steps two at a time and left a kiss on his mother’s cheek as he passed. She smiled at his hastiness as he yanked on his shoes and flashed her a smile. “Tell Ma I said goodbye! Brock’s rushing me,” he called and shoved his lunch in his bag, eyes apologetic.

“No worry, honey, she’ll understand. Have a good day!” Her words barely made it through the front door after him before it was shut and she was shaking her head with a little sigh. It was difficult to not love the kid.

The bright yellow car almost blinded the brunette as he pushed through the gate with his hip and jumped into the open door. His closest friend looked up at him through squinted eyes, fingers on his watch. “Ninety-three seconds, you’re lucky you have a pretty face,” he said, smiling at the giggly laugh Jon let out. He put his car into gear and pulled onto the road. “Also—“ he added, shooting Jonathon another glance, “—you look really cute and the flower clown really suits you so stop stressing about it.”

 For a moment, his eyes widened, shocked at how easily he was read. The moment passed and was replaced with a soft smile and happy thoughts.

Brock grinned, adding a snarky, “No homo, though.” The flower crown-wearing boy snorted at the over-exaggerated “manly” voice. Jonathon rolled his eyes.

“Yeah right, Brock, we all know you like sucking dick,” he told him and flinched away as the driver swiped at him playfully. He let out an overdramatic gasp, “Both hands on the wheel! Reckless driving, I don’t feel safe!” Giggling filled their car throughout the short drive to school, stupid banter being thrown back and forth between them. He sat back in the comfy seat and watched the little houses pass, falling in love with the little flower gardens blooming with pride.

When the blinding yellow machine pulled up at school and the two hopped out, Jonathon felt his worry raise in the back of his mind. After a stern look from Brock, he rolled his eyes, allowing the other to grab him by his hoodie and yank him in the direction of the building.

The two parted ways almost the moment they stepped through the front doors, Brock heading for literature and Jonathon heading for music. They had the same periods for maths and science and that was all, unfortunately, but there were others who they met up with at lunch who also shared classes here and there. He didn’t meet anyone’s looks, noticing the lingering eyes which strayed to the ring of flowers atop his head. Insecurity creeped up on him, fearing violence in blue and brown and green eyes and walking more hastily to the storage room. Once inside, he felt himself calm, unknown gazes replaced with those he was familiar with.

“Jonathon, you pretty motherfucker!” A grin broke onto his face as he collected his instrument and walked to the group gathering on the side of the auditorium. Craig’s brows wiggled and he reached a hand out to pinch Jon’s cheek only to be swatted away. He only laughed, sweeping his fingers through his bright blue hair instead.

The girl under his arm grinned at Jonathon and the fourth party gasped dramatically, snatching up his hand when he was close enough. “Oh Jonny, my love! You look dashingly handsome and my—“ the Irish boy let the back of his free hand fall to his forehead as he fell to his knee, attracting attention from the room. “—these pink weeds really do draw attention to your luscious pink lips. Kiss me Jon!”

The brunette kicked his friend in the thigh, wrenching his hand away and grimacing. “You can kiss my ass, Brian, fuck’s sake get _up_.” Red flushed his freckled cheeks and he yanked Brian up, hiding his face from other music students who laughed and rolled their eyes at the Irish shenanigans. The boy himself grinned, very satisfied with his little show and proud of the attention he’d achieved through it. Jonathon rolled his eyes. “Attention whore.”

“Aw you’re so good to me, baby,” he cooed, only to be shoved away again. Once the red had faded from his cheeks a bit, an arm fell around his shoulders and the class clown grinned down at him, leaning in close to whisper, “Don’t worry Jonny, I wouldn’t want to make you look bad in front of your little audience.” He earned a frown until he nodded very slightly across the room. After a few moments, Jon’s blue eyes drifted over to see the percussionists setting up. In particular, he met eyes with the main drummer who dropped his gaze and returned to setting up his kit.

The arm fell off his shoulders and the teacher stepped into the room. He clapped twice and the room slowly sorted itself out, students putting their cases to the side and preparing their instruments. Jonathon hurriedly removed his violin and bow, going to his section and sitting himself down behind a stand. The lesson introduction blurred into meaningless words and Jonathon watched Craig go to his clarinet, Sunny (his girlfriend) go to her cello and Brian get his trombone. His eyes curiously settled on the drummer, unaware of the subtle staring.

Jonathon was often very aware of this particular classmate everywhere seeing as every now and then he’d catch a smile that he wasn’t sure was even for him. He hadn’t really had the time to speak to the boy but he knew his reputation.

Pretty much flawless.

As his bow raised to his violin, he stood along with the other violinists. His hands expertly worked, barely thinking about the movements that produced the pretty melody. His mind wandered elsewhere, encircling the bad boy punk of his grade. Along with three or four others, Evan was a known cliché and a sexy one.

The dark eyes, black hair, pierced tongue and ears, perfect eyebrows. He always wore black, often skinny jeans and tight shirts that were unfairly complimentary to his body. He was everything you’d expect, all leather jackets and cool motorbike, sometimes a cigarette between his lips but not often enough to be ugly. He was punky, well known, and _hot_ and Jonathon’s homosexuality pretty much died anytime he was in the room.

But he barely knew the guy and he was far too perfect to be queer also, so Jon just devoured his eye candy and appreciated everything about the boy. Halfway through the piece, his gaze drifted to Brian who was pulling kissy faces at him and making not-at-all-subtle, obscene gestures that the teacher was trying pointedly to ignore.

Jon did the same, focusing on his sheet music and filling his mind with music instead of Evan for the remainder of the lesson. When they all packed up, he noticed the teacher stalking towards him and felt dread fill his lungs. _The assignment._ As quickly as he walked towards the music storeroom, he couldn’t avoid her voice.

“Jonathon.” He froze, wincing as he turned back and offered a guilty smile. She gave him a fond but stern look. “You’re assignment’s still overdue. I gave you that extension with the intension that you’d use it.”

Jon let out a small sigh, no excuses jumping to mind. “I’m sorry Miss,” was all he had to offer and the teacher nodded her head.

“Get it to me by Friday and you won’t have to lose marks, but I want you in detention at lunch.” She turned, her words falling back over her shoulder as her heels clicked away to the front of the room. Jon sighed, never one to enjoy detention. It was often just a class of kids that were high, dumb as fuck, or jackasses.

He did not look forward to losing his lunchtime to the desk in the back corner of Mr Kennedy’s class, trying to get as far away from the smell of weed as possible.

“Try doing your homework?” Craig offered when he joined the trio and pushed his violin into its place on the shelf below his name.

“Try fucking yourself?” the brunette countered, blue eyes sparkling as any negativity in his mood evaporated.

Brian smirked as he put his instrument up in its place. He peered at the flowers nestled in brown hair in thought. “You know, you’re actually quite adorable and pretty,” he told Jon, the brunette narrowing his eyes and waiting for the ‘but’, “And then you open your mouth and curse with every second word with that evil twinkle in your eye, and you become less cute and more terrifying.” His accent weighted his words down and Jon cackled, amused and slightly proud of his friend’s idea of him. He was an odd boy. He’d been told it enough and wasn’t scared about his image.

“You think I’m cute!” he cooed, pinching the taller Irish boy’s cheek and grinning. Before he could properly react, the cute boy dropped back onto his heels and weaved around the other music students to the door.

He had maths to endure but his good mood was difficult to break.

-

Jonathon had been unfortunately accurate. The smell of weed coated the English class and he felt sorry for the kids who had to learn there each day. His nose scrunched up, the designated detention class filled with about ten kids of his year. He hovered in the doorway, his body pleading him to turn and walk away and beg his music teacher for yard duty or lower marks or anything but that detention room.

Six boys sat in the back corner, a brunette with Mario hat smirking with a joint between his lips. His legs were on the legs of another boy who sat upon one of the desks, Jon recognised him from his English class as Steven. Two others sat backwards on chairs, one on the floor with his head on someone’s thigh and the last standing and leaning against Steven’s shoulder as he talked animatedly about something. From his red eyes and slow, giggly words, Jon could easily tell he was high. They all were.

The other four people in the room were two girls at the front, scribbling in the one notebook, and two guys with bloodied and bruised faces, looking away from one another with folded arms and scrunched up expressions.

Jonathon huffed a heavy sigh, walking up the other side of the classroom and dropping his bags on a desk. He sat down on a chair that squeaked under his weight, before settling his arms atop his belongings and hiding his face behind them.

The door opened and shut again, Jonathon finding the slightest effort to lift his attention to the thin, bony woman. She looked around the room and rolled her eyes as they settled on the smokers. With a little more effort than necessary, she dropped her files onto the desk, staring pointedly as snickers erupted from the group. Jonathon noticed the centre of her focus upon following her annoyed gaze to Steven and the Mario guy who were attached at the lips. Their friends weren’t bothering to hold back their giggling and snorting as Steven leaned down further, his hand gripping the slightly curly hair tight enough that the red hat fell to the ground. The other boy’s hands were creeping up his legs, mouths open as they tried to get as close to each other as possible. The joint fell from Steven’s fingers and Jonathon doubted either of them even noticed.

“Anthony. Steven.” The teacher’s words expressed her annoyance and boredom enough to the entire class and the two boys split reluctantly, lips red and swollen as they lazily grinned at each other.

By the time Steven’s hand dropped from Anthony’s hair, the boy was aiming his smirk at the teacher. He leant down, swiftly plucking the joint from the ground and holding it in her direction. “You can have a drag too Ms, no one’s stoppin’ you.” He shot her a wink and the girls giggled as his friends shoved him and hit him across the back of the head. The boy sitting on the floor, John his name was, picked up his friend’s hat and offered it back to the Italian who settled it back in his place.

The teacher just rolled her eyes. “Keep your intimate activities to yourselves please boys, we don’t all need to see it.”

Anthony and Steven shared an amused look and the teacher shook her head in defeat. She sat down at her desk just as the door opened and the one and only Evan walked in. Jonathon almost slammed his head down on his desk, and resorted to just closing his eyes.

“Cutting close, Mr Fong. Take a seat. You lot don’t do anything against the rules and you can leave when the bell goes.” Her instructions were simple and clear and after Evan had made himself comfortable in the room she left as quickly as she could.

Jonathon let his head remain down, eyes shut and boredom swirling his thoughts like a teaspoon.

“Hey, Jonathon, isn’t it?” Said boy lifted his head, eyes wide as the dashingly handsome, badass cliché boy took the seat beside him. Jonathon stopped his gawking as soon as he realised he was staring and swallowed down the warmth that flooded his trachea.

“Er, yes. Yeah, Jonathon… that’s me, Jon, or Jonathon. Yeah.” His words tumbled and clattered out of his mouth in a clumsy formation that just sounded awkward. He flinched the moment he shut his mouth, hoping that maybe seeing the boy so close he’d be able to pick out something about him that wasn’t flawless.

He had been mistaken and was feeling quite hot in the room all of a sudden. The bad boy cliché smiled with slight amusement and Jonathon ignored the way his brown eyes sparkled and resorted to picking away at his backpack strap.

“You’re Evan right? What are you here for?” he asked, unsure of how else to go about conversation. The boy beside him was absolutely stunning and he was absolutely gay in that everything about him made his cheeks burn and heart thump. He had to focus on something else rather than just him, preferably conversation.

His eyes drifted around the class in search for something else to look at or focus on or talk about, only to let his gaze return to his fingers when they fell upon Anthony and Steven once again making out as their friends poked and prodded at them. They all seemed awfully comfortable in the detention class and Jon wasn’t afraid to assume they were there quite often.

His eyes regretfully caught onto Evan’s curious gaze as the boy smiled lightly. “Yeah, and I kind of—“ he lifted a hand, flexing his fingers to show off softly bruising knuckles, “—gave someone a blood-nose.” His voice danced with slight embarrassment and Jonathon’s eyes narrowed.

_Ugh of course he’s a violent dickhead._ “Why the fuck did you do that?” he asked, tone snapping unnecessarily at the boy he knew far too little about to be making judgements. _He’s just a violent piece of shit who can’t keep his head out of his ass and has to hit people to show he’s manly and dominant. Of fucking course._

Evan ducked his head slightly. “Well he put his hands all over my sister at a party and fucked off when she kneed him in the balls.” Jonathon’s irritation melted with each of his words as he listened intently to the Canadian boy who was fiddling with his fingers. “I heard him talking shit before school, saying she was a good fuck but a total bitch or whatever, a complete slut for him or some shit. So I, er, walked up, punched him in the nose, and told him to shove his dick down his own throat because my sister has a boyfriend and standards far too high for him to reach.”

Jon’s eyes widened, pretty much feeling his pupils morph into hearts as his chest swelled. _Not a piece of shit. Head definitely not in ass. Actually an image of perfection. Holy fuck am I gay._ “Oh my god, what a dick.” He could barely stop himself from gawking because _he’s an actual angel_.

Evan let out a little laugh, his smile stabbing Jon straight through the heart as he flipped the conversation. “How about you? What crimes have you committed this morning, flower boy?” His eyes flicked up to the pink and yellow crown with teasing smile.

Jon couldn’t tell whether he went bright red because of his answer or because Evan Fong just called him “flower boy” and smiled at him. “I didn’t do my music assignment?” he admitted, words almost questioning themselves as a real reason to be in the room. Sure enough, the boy let out a laugh, the comparison between their “crimes” amusing enough. When Evan’s lungs expelled air once again, instead of laughter, his lips parted in a grin and Jonathon tried not to swear out loud, his cheeks staying a soft pink. Before he could think his words through, he blurted out: “You should do that more often.” To which Evan’s smile faded and became an expression of slight confusion. Instead of recovering from what could have become very awkward and embarrassing, the blue-eyed boy stupidly chose to continue down that path by clarifying his words with a small, “Smile, I mean.”

Soft pink became dark red. Conveniently, Evan’s cheeks was starting to glow as well. “Pardon?” he asked, politeness ever-surprising the soft-coloured boy. For a badass cliché, he was surprisingly polite and friendly.

Jonathon almost backed out, ready to brush off his words and leave it be – hope the other boy would forget he ever said a thing. Unfortunately, the homosexuality within him said otherwise and no matter how red his face grew, he tried to explain himself. “You just, er, smiled with your teeth and I’ve never really seen you do that before but it just made you look even prettier and- not saying you aren’t pretty when you’re not smiling, you’re kind of pretty all the time but you just look _especially_ pretty when you smile like that and you don’t look so scary and intimidating with your leather jackets and piercings…” His words faded away, no longer dripping off his tongue like a leaky tap as his eyes widened in realisation of half the things he’d said.

Evan looked just as shocked and Jonathon felt his lungs freeze up when the boys from across the room began speaking loudly, grinning in their direction. “Steven, baby, why don’t you say stuff like that to me!?” Anthony’s obnoxious words grabbed both boys’ attention and Jonathon squeezed his eyes tightly shut in embarrassment. Evan smiled, pursing his lips to stop his laughter as the boy continued. “Don’t you think I’m pretty, Stevie? Am I pretty? You should tell me I’m pretty!”

Steven was grinning, eyes flicking between his boyfriend and the two embarrassed boys unsure of whether to address the teasing or not. Jonathon lifted his hands to his face, trying to press the heat and redness away as he peeked through his fingers. Steven just leaned forwards blowing smoky air into the Italian’s face, which scrunched up and proceeded to choke and cough on his own lungs.

“Lying isn’t a good habit to adopt, sorry babe,” he apologised, kissing the gaping boy on the cheek. He’d definitely not been expecting the nasty comment and Jonathon laughed softly into his hands as the two began bickering back and forth, Anthony whining and almost crying to the boy who just smiled and laughed.

Evan looked back at the furiously embarrassed boy in front of him and failed to stop his laugh from reappearing quietly. It pushed his lips back again, showing his teeth in a smaller, shyer smile. Jonathon’s fingers drifted down his face, fingertips settling just below his eyes as he smiled into them. Evan couldn’t deny how adorable the boy seemed, and was genuinely shocked that he’d never noticed that fact before. Sure he’d seen the boy around and appreciated his cute style, especially that day with the flower crown. He’d also heard his loud laughter and thoughtless cursing. He had made Evan curious and amused, at most, but having spoken to the boy Evan was starting to see little hearts and sparkles glow around him.

And he had no idea what to say in response to his little rant, absolutely speechless and undoubtedly flattered that he thought so much about the smile he’d shown. His mind jumped over the words, replaying them back and forth in his mind and encouraging his cheeky smile at which Jonathon’s heart eyes swelled.

“Maybe I like looking scary and intimidating,” he joked, thoughtlessly sticking out his tongue and dragging it back into his mouth along the bottom of his teeth. He allowed the little silver ball to catch before the appendage returned to its place, unaware of its effect on the wide-eyed boy.

Despite his embarrassment and overwhelming attraction to the bad boy, Jon sat back, mouth running without a pause. “I’ve come to realise you’re too polite to be intimidating, now that I’ve spoken to you.” He flashed the boy a smile of his own to show his lack of fear, but ducked his head down after only a moment as his confidence and embarrassment battled for domination over his words and actions.

The boy laughed, shaking his head with a shy smile. “I can get as many piercings as I can fit on my face, I’ll still be Canadian,” he sighed, jokingly disappointed in himself. His friends made fun of him all the time about being punky and Canadian, telling him he’ll never be scary enough because he was too polite and kind. He didn’t care much for it, not wanting to be a dick just because he had a motorbike and pierced ears. The shorter boy before him nodded in agreement, bright blue eyes sparkling with enjoyment despite his rosy cheeks. The same soft curiosity returned to Evan thoughts. “Tell me something about yourself, Jonathon.”

The brunette winced. “You don’t have to call me Jonathon, you sound like you’re talking to a nine year old,” he scolded,

“’Flower boy’ sound better?”

Jonathon was going to have a heart failure. “Um, I mean, most people call me Jon but I don’t mind, whatever you want, I guess that’s okay?” He clamped his teeth shut as to lock his words down, very aware of how he would ramble when he got nervous.

But Evan was still smiling and Jon’s nerves were still sky-high. “How about Jay?” he suggested, likely aware of how flustered he was making the cute boy and not feeling as bad as he probably should have.

Jonathon was melting in the uncomfortable school chair, because _no one’s ever given me a unique nickname, how do I even deal with this!?_

Evan’s smile faltered ever-so-slightly at the thought flashing behind the pretty blue eyes. “Only if you’re comfortable with it of course, I don’t want to single you out or anything. I can just call you Jon.” He didn’t want to scare this guy off instantly, just when he was showing how cute and pretty he was.

Instantly though, the smaller boy shook his head. “No! No, I like them! It. I like it. Jay. Or flower boy. I mean, whatever you would prefer. I don’t really mind.” His rambling ceased and he stopped himself before he could slam his head down on the desk in embarrassment.

The bell rung throughout the classroom and Anthony let out a cheer of excitement as he raced out the door, dragging Steven by the fingers. He let out a quick, “See ya, pretty boys!” before winking at the two of them and disappearing.

Evan slung his bag over his shoulder and touched his fingers to the back of Jon’s wrist. “You’re cute, Jay,” he mentioned, an adorable smile pushing at his cheeks. “See you around.”

Jonathon could only gape until he’d left the room and the last of the potheads drifted out into the corridors. Snapping back to his current time and place, he collected his own things and dragged his feet from the room. The fact that he’d had a conversation with the hottest bad boy in the year was shocking enough. The fact that he had told said bad boy that he found him and his smile pretty had his heart stopping. The fact that said bad boy had given him cutesy nicknames _and_ called him cute was enough to have the boy red-faced and breathless.

He almost didn’t believe it happened and thanked his laziness the night before, quite pleased that he hadn’t completed his assignment. Now he was on speaking terms with Evan Fong… never mind that, he was on _cute nicknames and compliments_ terms with Evan Fong.

He just shook his head, leaving the room and heading for History.


	2. tongue piercing

**2.**

Brock was waiting for Jonathon when he finally escaped the building and sought out the yellow car. The remainder of his day had been fast and plain and the sight of his lift home sparked excitement in his eyes. He hadn’t seen his friend all day except for a few rolled eyes across his science class.

“How was detention?” Both boys slipped into the vehicle, shutting doors and putting on seatbelts. Brock started the car as Jon let his head fall back and eyes close. He sighed, a smile still painted on his lips.

He glanced at the driver as they pulled away from school. “Nothing interesting, just got called cute by Evan Fong.” He grinned, arms stretching up and hands finding their place at the back of his head. He let out a yelp as the car jerked, stopping uncomfortably suddenly at the lights.

“You what by who!?”

The boy let out a laugh, memories dancing around his mind. The day had been made by his hour in detention. “We talked all lunch and I accidently said his smile was pretty and so was he, and he told me I was cute and said ‘See you around’,” he recounted, words almost blurring together as his mood mirrored Brock’s, which was highly excited.

“Oh my God, oh my God, do you think he’s gay? Bi maybe, or probably pan? You have to get his number! Oh, oh, oh, and then go out on dates and share milkshakes and hold hands on ferris-wheels and kiss under fireworks… When’s the next carnival? Jon I’m so excited!” He was practically squealing and Jon laughed loudly, unable to drop the grin from his face if he tried. His happiness was overwhelming and probably over-exaggerated and unrealistic. But he took happiness over rationality most days.

“Slow down, you idiot, I have to have more than one conversation with him before I can even consider anything else. He’s pretty much flawless, so I’ll settle for anything I can get, even if it’s just being friends.”

Brock stared at him in almost disgust, before shaking his head determinedly. “Look Jon. You’re hella gay. He’s hella hot, and possibly, _probably,_ queer seeing as he called you cute and I have a _feeling_. You have to go for this! You cannot let this badass, sexy, bad boy get away, alright?” Jon’s laugh filled the small vehicle again as his house slowed down beside them.

“Thanks for the lift Brock,” he said, tugging on the doorhandle only for the little lock on the side of the door to snap in. He turned back to Brock’s stubborn pout and tried ~~failed~~ to hide his amused giggles. “Thank you Brock,” he emphasised, watching the other as he pulled the lock up and opened the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? And message me about the music festival next Sunday! I have to make sure Mum can pick us up.” He pushed the door shut and leant on the window sill to look in, Brock’s pout melting away.

He grinned instead, tilting his head slightly. “Which one?”

Jon rolled his eyes, the joke far from new, and shook his head as he stood and opened his little white gate. “See you Brock!”

“Bye cutie-pie!” The yellow smudge vanished around the corner of his street and he let himself into his home.

He already knew his parents were home by the music flowing down the hall to meet him the moment he stepped inside. The door clicked shut almost silently as he removed his shoes and he listened with a faint smile as little spurts of singing mixed in with the music.

Two woman occupied the space of the kitchen. One sat at the island, laptop and papers set in organised piles spread out in front of her, hair cascading down her back, a waterfall of reds and oranges. She sat up straight, her work uniform undone, untucked and untidy, and watched her screen through little blue glasses as her fingers danced back and forth over the keys. Every now and then, her lips parted to sing along with the soft music thoughtlessly.

The second moved up and down the bench, two pots on the stove and a chopping board of vegetables spread out haphazardly. Her dark hands chopped, stirred and manoeuvred her ingredients to and fro, long black hair tied in thick braids that swung around as she moved. Her wide hips swayed with a comfortability only achievable with the utmost happiness. She felt nothing else with her beautiful family in her beautiful home.

Jon watched from the doorway, adoration for his Moms indescribable. His Mama noticed him first, turning to wash her hands and catching sight of her seventeen year old. Her face melted into a warm smile as she skipped up to him and pulled him to her in a hug. He grinned into her shoulder, bending down slightly and wrapping his arms around her also.

His Mom looked up and he met her eyes over the bare shoulder of her wife. “Hey handsome, how was your day?” she asked, closing her laptop and standing as he was released from the embrace. She was obviously tired and definitely took the title of the hard-worker in their family. She, Riley, was a lawyer, and paid for pretty much their whole lives, while her wife, Alice, worked part-time as a primary school teacher and put any free-time she had into volunteer work.

He had no chance to answer as his Mama grabbed his cheeks with wide, sparkling eyes. “You wore it to school! Oh, you’re the absolute cutest and prettiest boy alive, Jonathon, I’ll tell you that. I’m sure everyone was gaping and gawking as you walked by, you’re such a gorgeous boy.” Her flattery consumed him and he laughed, pulling her hands away and evading her swiftly as she reached out for another hug. He doubted he would’ve be able to get out of that one.

“It was lovely, Mom,” he answered, giving her a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. She flicked her curly hair back, freckles dancing as she smiled at his little crown. He grinned, stepping away and glancing at the steaming pots on the stove. “You might want to check the food, Ma.” Her eyes widened and she turned, rushing back to her station and rapidly stirring both brewing meals. He rested a hand on the doorway as the thinner woman began to tie up her hair, face slack with sleepiness. “Oh, I also talked to a really pretty boy in detention and he called me cute and gave me two nicknames!” he blurted out, making a mad dash up the carpeted staircase as something clattered,

“What boy!?”

“Detention?”

The two women spoke at once, one of shock and the other of confusion, but the slam of a bedroom door was the only response they received as Jon returned to his comfort zone. He hummed along to the song that had greeted him in the kitchen, setting down his bag and pulling out his laptop and notebooks.

Upon dropping them on his desk in a disorganised array, he settled down in his seat, plugged in his headphones and started on his music assignment.

 

-

 

Jonathon loved his moms. He didn’t find them annoying, he didn’t find them embarrassing, and he didn’t feel the need to keep secrets or lie. They were both very trusting, very respectful and very interested in what he was doing.

He found no problem in telling them just how handsome Evan Fong was over dinner and they both asked about him and asked what they spoke about and what he was like and whether Jonathon was going to ask him for his number (to which Alice was very disappointed). Alice was definitely the most excitable, neither of them old and scolding like other parents could be. The two were young, and had adopted Jonathon when he was six and when they were in their mid-twenties because he was a sweet, polite kid and they both fell in love with him almost instantly. Riley loved to make things right and make sure people were safe and comfortable, especially her family. She worked with the law and worked well, able to support herself, her wife and her son with no worries at all. Putting Jon into primary school, she shut down the principal when he met with her to tell her they wouldn’t accept Jon because he was too old to join younger classes and the kids would find it weird to have a peer with two moms. No, she was not happy when he said that and yes, he was humiliated by the time she swept from the office and slammed his door shut.

Sure enough, her darling boy got put into a more expensive, more professional school and she organised tutors to he could easily catch up on all the few years of education he’d missed. Under her roof, he worked diligently and gratefully, never once complaining because how could he? He finally had a family, had not just one mom, but _two_ , and could play and learn and laugh with other kids his age.

Alice and Riley raised Jonathon well and they were so proud of him in everything. There was (obviously) no issue when he came out as gay himself, though the two found it quite hilarious, and they adored his school friends also (especially Brock as he was gay as well). They loved to make a joke of it all but through to the core of their family of three, they all loved one another with everything and none of them could be happier anywhere else.

Though, Riley wasn’t so happy to hear Jon was in detention, and she half-heartedly tried to tell him off only to be ignored and cut off by Alice who whined and whinged because her baby boy was talking to other boys, _cute_ boys specifically.

Jon picked up his and his mothers’ plates the moment she asked her wife, “Should we have _the talk_ with him?” Riley shook her head and laughed, and Alice thought far too deeply about how to go about giving her gay son the sex talk when she was a lesbian. She didn’t have enough time to think it through as the boy fled from the kitchen and the dining room and returned to his music.

 

-

 

That morning, he stared with indecision once more at the ring of roses before Evan’s nickname of “flower boy” wafted through his thoughts. Alice kissed the boy atop his head before he could leave, adjusting the crown ever-so-slightly and pulling a few strands of hair away.

“Perfect,” she announced, before whipping his butt and legs with the tea towel in her hands until he had shut the front door and gate behind him.

Brock started driving before Jon was even in the car and blue eyes stared with distrust for a long sixty seconds, one leg in the vehicle and one leg still on safe land. “I don’t trust you with my life,” he told the driver who let out a laugh, jerking the car forward and shutting Jon’s door for him (as well as slamming his head back against the headrest).

They talked their way to school, excitement for the weekend and even more for the following which held the date for the music festival they had tickets for. It was something they looked forward to twice a year and a lot of Jon’s favourite artists were playing.

They reached school, a few minutes early, and made their lazy way to the science block together. Able to share classes, they got in early and sat beside each other at the window, chattering away and ignoring the teacher’s pointed glares. Classes flew by, hours feeling shallow and time skipping. They split for Social Studies, endured recess with Brian and Craig, and suffered through maths with one another.

Brock left for a music lesson halfway through third period, leaving Jon to stare out the window and write down different sequences of letters and numbers he didn’t care to try and understand. The bell chimed in his ears, and he skipped around and over other bags to remove himself from the room before the teacher had even told them what they had to do over the weekend.

He didn’t care that much, and punishment wasn’t all that threatening anymore.

His feet lead him straight to the room of shitty food and an awful people-to-tables ratio, dumping his bag with Craig and Suni. He found a place in the cafeteria line, picking at his fingernails as a tune played in his mind, circulating with an accompanied sense of comfort and familiarity. His mind wandered, unsurprisingly, as he reached the trays and food, gathering his tolerable and ~~hopefully~~ edible lunch. He tried to pretend he wasn’t hyper-aware of Evan’s laughter a few people behind him and focused on getting his tray back to his table without spilling it everywhere.

His focus worked for the tray, but not for his crown which he did an awkward tilted dance and sidestep in failed attempts of keeping it nestled in his hair. It found a new place on the ugly grey floor and he just stared at it for a few moments, realising he needed two hands to hold his tray, and one to pick up the crown. It was disappointing to realise he didn’t have three hands and he was far too unbalanced to remain on one leg for longer than four seconds.

He hesitated, unsure of how to go about retrieving the accessory and not wanting to just hover above it for ages and look like an idiot. All his friends faced the opposite side of the room, a long walk through other tables and crowds away. None of them could help him. He looked back, floor bare, and had a moment of stuttered fear.

The moment melted, when he snapped his attention up to scan the closest people for a thief, only finding chocolate eyes and a little smile. The boy almost shrieked, containing himself as he weakly smiled behind pink cheeks.

“You dropped something, flower boy,” Evan said, voice soft and casual, but having an invisible effect on Jon by releasing fireworks in his lungs. The ring of flowers was held out, only for Jon to look helplessly at the taller boy, and for the taller boy to laugh, reaching for Jon’s head and very carefully settling the crown back in his hair. He ducked slightly, as to allow the other to make sure the dropped object was back in its place and safe from falling off again, before lifting his shy blue eyes back up.

Jon, finally getting oxygen back into his lungs, stepped back a small step. “Er, thanks,” he forced out, a weak smile forming on his lips as he just gaped at the punk who was far too polite to be a punk ~~but definitely hot enough to be.~~

Evan beamed, teeth shining in the smile Jon had complimented twenty-four hours earlier. It vanished as fast as it appeared, one chocolate eye dropping in a wink. “Have a good weekend, Jay.”

Another guy stepped up beside Evan, taller and punkier and intimidating enough to have Jon backing up subtly and moving his attention elsewhere as icy blue eyes settled on him for a few seconds. “Come on, bitch boy, I’m hungry and this shitty plasticine food isn’t gonna eat itself.” He bumped his friend and both Evan and Jonathon turned away from one another, walking in opposite directions.

Jon lifted his eyes to Brock who was gaping at him, and smiled guiltily as the other grabbed his sleeve and hastily yanked him back to their table.

“Okay, so when was ‘flower boy’ a thing?” he asked, purposefully loud enough to have Jon flinching away and their friends’ attention gained. “And _‘Jay’_ because I have never heard anyone call you that. I’m not saying it’s not cute either, because it is god damn adorable, especially coming from Evan Fong!” He hissed the name and the others at the table shared smirks as Jon tipped his head back in a groan.

The smile playing at his lips was enough of a giveaway that something good had happened and Brock stared at him in demand. He shrugged. “He gave me a nickname?” he offered, voice weak despite everyone’s full attention on him. Brock’s glare hardened and Jon shrunk under it. “Two nicknames?” he corrected, eliciting an exasperated whine from the other.

Brock grabbed his face, pulling him close and staring deeply into the bottomless pits of blue. “You’re gay as fuck.”

“Jonny-boy has a punk kink,” Scotty stated, crunching on something Jon didn’t know the name of. It didn’t look healthy, but he frowned at the other’s words in alarm. The dirty blonde shrugged, meeting his gaze with a smirk. “I mean who wouldn’t want to taste that tongue piercing?” Brian’s hand flew to his face, failing to conceal the same laugh Craig squeaked out. Lucas dropped his drink, chocolate milk dribbling from his nose and lips as he shrieked with laughter and choked violently. Jonathon’s face boiled bright red and he sunk down in his chair.  

Snickers and giggles were shared and Brock patted his best friend’s back reassuringly, hiding his amusement in a small smirk. Jonathon’s whole body burned in red-hot flames, food neglected in his refusal to even lift his head from his hands.

“He’s not denying it!” Suni sung, grin on her lips as Brian scoffed loudly.

“Who would? It’s Evan fucking Fong?”

Giggles mingled with agreements and the table spouted into several conversations branching from the topic of punks and tongue piercings. Jon tried to ignore everyone, succeeding half-heartedly until Brian spoke up again.

“What do ye think it’d feel like to be blown by someone with a tongue piercing?” he asked and half the table cheered at his genuine shameless curiosity, the other half groaning and shaking their heads. After a few seconds of response, a smirk crawled up his face and he tipped back in his chair. “It’s alright, I’ll just ask Jon next week.”

Turns out he _could_ get even redder.

 

-

 

He only saw Evan once more that day in music, meeting his gaze across the class and appreciating his little smile as he fiddled with his drumsticks. He had to look away as his face began glowing red at the thought of his tongue piercing. And although he would deny it, he may have made a few more mistakes that lesson than he usually would as his thoughts wandered into places they really shouldn’t have.

His weekend was also uneventful. As enjoyable as his lack of homework was, he had no other plans other than sitting around and watching movies, and settled on a relaxing two days with his family. He convinced both moms to settle in the living room with ice cream and chocolate and watch Disney movies (the only ones Riley would tolerate).

By the time they were halfway through The Little Mermaid, Jon was asleep on the floor, leaning back against his Mama’s legs as she ran her fingers through his hair and decorated it with tiny little braids. She barely paid attention to the film as her fingers worked and thoughts blanked with sleepiness. When she came back to the real world, her son’s hair was a masterpiece and her wife was splayed out against her, red hair caught in her gaping mouth as she breathed in and out heavily.

The awake woman shook her head with a little smile on her lips, patting her son on the shoulder lightly until he stirred. “Go to bed, sweets, I’m taking your Mom up now before she wakes up with cramp or something.” Her words were silky honey, leading him back to the conscious world enough for him to get to his feet, turn off the TV, and drag himself upstairs. He turned back to watch cautiously as Alice carried Riley up after him, slow and careful as she clutched her shirt in her sleep.

Once assured his Ma wasn’t going to fall or struggle, he kissed her on the cheek, and dropped a feather-light kiss to his Mom’s forehead, before watching them disappear into their room.

He went to bed with the feeling of hands in his hair and warmth enveloping him.

Ever since he was adopted, he wanted a love like his moms’ had. It was the purest sort of love without drama or difficulty and all he ever saw of them was simple happiness and comfort. That was all he ever wanted, all he ever needed, and he couldn’t wait to find the person who would provide him with just that, as he would them.

 

-

 

**_17:48, Sunday_ **

**Moo-Moo - > “Flower Boy”, Terroriser, Mini Thot, Suni, Twink One, and Twink Two **

 

 **Moo-Moo:** Okay ladies and gents, Sunday next weekend. Music Festival. You guys all come to mine and I’ll drive us all there and back. We good?

 **“Flower Boy”:** wht are thrse names + i dont trust ur driving

 **Twink One:** whAT THE FUCK

 **Twink Two:** wait what

 **Terroriser:** LMAO WHO ARE THE TWINKS

 **Twink One:** i don’t know what to say about this. i’m not a bottom, this is bi erasure????

 **Moo-Moo:** One is Scotty, two is Lucas

 **Mini Thot:** im fuckingscreaming ohmfg, scotty you’re definitely a fucking bottom

 **Mini Thot:** how am I a thot tho??? this is rude???

 **Suni:** sorry bb u r tho

 **Terroriser:** get fucked by ur gf

 **Mini Thot:** ive never felt this pain before

 **Mini Thot:** i feel like im being ripped apart

 **Mini Thot:** i cant breathe

 **Mini Thot:** am i dying?

 **Suni:** no ur just a thot

 **“Flower Boy”:** OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOoOoOOOOOOO

 **Terroriser:** GET FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKEEEEEEDDDDDDD

 **Mini Thot:** ok but how isnt jon one of the twinks? fake news

 **Twink Two:** he’s a twink for Evan

 **“Flower Boy”:** yeh u right

 **“Flower Boy”:** tO MINI NOT LUCAS

 **“Flower Boy”:** IM JNOTW AGREEN GWTIH THAT

 **Twink One:** get a dictionery

 **Suni:** dictionary*

 **“Flower Boy”:** hey scott

 **Twink One:** ye

 **“Flower Boy”:** go ge t ur moms dildo

 **“Flower Boy”:** and shove it up ur ass

 **Twink One:** k

 **Moo-Moo:** Alright kids, hush. Jon we’re going shopping tomorrow

 **Terroriser:** gay

 **“Flower Boy”:** shut the fukc up

 **“Flower Boy”:** and ok

 **Terroriser:** make sure u look cUTE because ur pretty boy is gonna be there with his lil punky squad listening to their edgy music and smoking esdgy cigs

 **“Flower Boy”:** he is?

 **Suni:** _gay_

 **Twink Two:** wawit is john going?

 **Mini Thot:** lucas

 **Mini Thot:** this is why your a twink

 **Twink Two:** you’re*

 **Mini Thot:** _you’re_ also a bitch

 **Twink Two:** i mean, rich coming from u because your’e legit suni’s bitch but sure ok

 **Terroriser:** well he’s not wrong

 **Suni:** ye he’s not wrong

 **Mini Thot:** wow I feel betrayed

 **Twink Two:** no one cares, who from their punk squad?

 **Moo-Moo:** I’m pretty sure Evan, John, Tyler, Marcel and Simone are going. I don’t know if David is.

 **Twink Two:** can i come shopping w u 2?

 **“Flower Boy”:** yes come with

 **Moo-Moo:** sure thing

 **Suni:** it’s late af, i’m calling it a night, all u guys have a good weekend!x

 **Mini Thot:** ye same here. night guys <3

**Suni left the chat.**

**Mini Thot left the chat.**

**“Flower Boy”:** yep, I’m out. See you guys Monday >-< <33

**“Flower Boy” left the chat**

 

**Moo-Moo - > “Flower Boy”**

**Moo-Moo:** We are definitely getting cute outfits tomorrow and by we, I mean you, because you need a love life and I need someone’s love life to feed off of because being single is fine with me and Brian’s still pretending to be straight.

 **“Flower Boy”:** only if u change my name

 **Moo-Moo:** :)

 **“Jay”:** fuck u


	3. rosy cheeks

**3.**

“Jonathon!” The music teacher’s voice cut the violinist’s playing, walking up to him as the rest of the room continued in an ugly chorus of sounds. He flinched, the moment he’d been dreading all day creeping up and looming above him in the form of Ms Rathe. Her black eyes watched him carefully as he reluctantly pulled out his assignment, or what was left of it. She could only sigh. “What happened?” She pulled the shredded pages from his hands and looked over them.

He ducked his head. “My cat got a hold of it, Miss. I’m so sorry, she doesn’t usually stray up to my room and I didn’t expect her to get the paper.” His words came out regretfully and he glanced up at her disappointed features, pretending not to notice the curious chocolate orbs that watched from across the room.

She just shook her head. “I’ll email you another copy to print out and I need it on my desk on Monday, Smith. You have had far too long.” He nodded rapidly, eager to be left alone to continue practicing, and push the thought of the work out of his mind. “For your lateness also I want you in here for extra practice at lunch tomorrow.”

His shoulders dropped and head fell back in a silent groan after she turned to walk away. When he lifted his head and rubbed at his face, he locked eyes with the drummer. The boy stared for a few seconds, not caring to look away from Jon stared right back, getting redder and redder by the second.

“Fong! Stop staring off into space and maybe try hitting the _drums_ with those sticks, instead of your knees!” Evan’s eyes widened, darting to the teacher as he stopped tapping the wooden stick against his leg. “I’ll be seeing you here at lunch tomorrow too.” A loud, off tune noise blurted from the woodwind section, Brian dropping his trombone to his knees and bending over to cough violently. The teacher frowned at him. “Just for that awful sound, you can join the both of them.” She swept to the front of the room, ignoring the Irish boy who slowly regained his ability to breathe properly. Little choked out giggles left his lungs in uneven spurts, causing more coughing and less breathing.

Jon let his head fall to the stand in front of him, groaning audibly this time. He heard the drum kit start up, and after another few moments, an extra trombone added to the mix.

He had an hour with Brian and Evan. An hour likely full of torment and teasing and a very red face.

“Jonathon! This class time is for you to _play_ your instrument, not sleep on your stand.”

He snapped up, violin to his chin and bow on the strings. He took a moment to collect himself before moving the bow and forcing everything else from his thoughts. Effortlessly, the melody on his sheet music leapt from the paper, dancing around him to a quick beat. After one glimpse at Brian who was staring straight back with a smirk behind his mouthpiece (making it difficult to play he could tell), he kept his flustered gaze on the page until the bell went.

“Jonny Boy!” The Irish voice was accompanied by an arm around his shoulders and the brunette easily shrugged him off. He clipped up his instrument case and pushed it into its place. “Aw, why so cold? We’re going to have so much fun together on tomorrow!”

The boy suppressed his groan, instead shooting the other a quizzical look. “Don’t you wag detentions?”

Brian only grinned, the expression screaming “shit-eating”. “Not this one, baby,” he cooed, leaning close and dropping his voice. “Wouldn’t want you and Evy-boy to get too comfortable all alone in the music room, would we now?”

Jon walked away, shaking his head and ignoring the cackle that followed him out of the room.

 

-

 

“We’re doing shopping right?” Lucas pulled out a chair beside Jon, slamming his tray down with a grin on his face. “I need me some gay ass clothes, boys.” Brock let out a laugh, nodding at the two boys across from him. Lucas fist-pumped enthusiastically, choosing not to notice how Jon ducked in fear of getting punched or elbowed in the face.

Brian rolled his eyes, Suni and Craig sitting down with a joint tray of food for the both of them. Suni grinned over at Lucas. “Gay,” she commented, and Brian nodded in agreement. She looked at him and scoffed. “So are you, fuckboy.”

“The fuck? I like chicks, for one, and for two: you’re bi!” he accused, Craig smirking between the two. His girlfriend let her smile morph into a sly grin.

“My mistake; _bi_ ,” she corrected and he gawked at her, mouth wide to defend himself. “And—“ she stopped him from interrupting, “—I’m pan, not bi.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Bi, pan, same thing.”

“They’re… not?” Lucas questioned between bites of pasta, earning an exasperated groan and several chuckles.

“Whatever the fuck you want to call it,” Brian ended, crunching into his apple. “I’m not bi either!” he chomped aggressively (chomping even more aggressively when Suni and Craig shared a look).

The boy glared at the table unfairly, as his friends shared amused smirks. He knew better than to continue trying to defend himself. It would only ever end in more teasing until he gave up.

The rest of the group took seats, and conversation fell over the whole of them, giggling, arguing, chatting; everyone actively cutting each other off and teasing one another relentlessly. Jon ate in silence, listening and watching with amusement dancing in his eyes as Lucas and Brock talked about the shops they wanted to go to and what they wanted to get. Lucas ranted and raved about how his dog chewed one of his new shoes and Brock nodded along sympathetically.

When the bell finally rung, the lot of them dumped their trays and split off to their own classes. The flower-wearing boy started towards History, a class he wasn’t a massive fan of. It wasn’t all bad though seeing as he got a full hour of doing nothing but staring at the back of Evan’s head. When he dragged himself into the room, he found a seat in the second last row and dumped his stuff to the floor carelessly. He watched each student arrive, settling into their usual seats and chattering with varied levels of enthusiasm.

“Hey Pretty Boy.” Jonathon smiled politely at Anthony who strutted down the aisle with a charming smirk on his lips, another sixth of his group trotting along behind him with a matching smirk. They both smelt of the smoke that stained their lungs and Jon didn’t even bother to roll his eyes as they sat behind him. He wondered whether they ever spent their time without smoke on their lips. “Haven’t seen you or your hot boyfriend in detention again, it’s been quite uneventful,” the Italian sighed, amusement and posed disappointment dripping from each word.

Jon turned in his seat. “Unfortunately for you, we’ll both be in music for detention tomorrow.”

Anthony seemed unfazed, eyes still glazed slightly as he leaned forwards, chin on his intertwined fingers as he grinned. “So he _is_ your hot boyfriend,” he pushed and the brunette frowned in alarm.

He opened his mouth to correct him and tell him no, Evan wasn’t his boyfriend, only for someone to drop down into his usually-empty seat. Blinking up in surprise, he felt his cheeks already begin to go red as Evan Fong himself settled his stuff down. “Mind if I steal this seat, Jay?” he asked, honey-smooth voice melting Jon’s insides completely as he tried to block out the two boys snickering behind him.

“I, er, um, no! Of course not, I don’t mind.” His voice squeaked as he spoke and Anthony choked on his own laugh, coughing loudly to try and mask it. He only got an odd look from Evan who didn’t know whether to laugh or look the other way. His attention was stolen as the teacher started speaking. Words dropped from his mouth about a topic Jonathon couldn’t follow or care to try. His finger nails picked at the plastic on his desk and he could feel the body beside him all too noticeably. It felt as though he were sitting right beside a flaming bonfire.

A paper booklet was dropped onto his desk, forcing his fingers away from the little pile of shredded plastic he was peeling away and he picked it up with a frown. Upon getting to the last few words of the first paragraph, he realised he couldn’t even remember what he’d read and just turned it face down. He didn’t care and he didn’t want to give himself a headache.

His thoughts wandered, leading him out of his present moments and into some sort of daydream world where he wasn’t sitting in school and where he was able to just play video games all day. “Do you play video games?” His words were quiet under the teacher’s unheard instructions and Evan dropped his gaze from the front of the class to his desk partner.

“When I get the chance, yeah definitely. What do you play?”

Jon tried to hide his very not-subtle excitement. He didn’t try very hard and Evan’s eyes sparkled as he listened. “Usually I just play with my friends and we fuck around on games like GTA five, CoD, gmod; stuff like that. I play pretty much any chance I get.” He felt his usual enthusiasm for playing games rise in his voice and forced himself to remain relatively calm. _Be cool, Jonny, be cool._

The teacher wrote up a few dot-points on the board that Jon didn’t even bother to read. He also barely bothered to hide the fact that he was watched Evan read them and write them down, admiring the way his jaw moved as he muttered under his breath, and the way his lashes fluttered with each blink, and the way a glimpse of silver metal appeared whenever he licked his lips.

Evan’s attention returned to his previous train of thought as he put his pencil down and turned slightly in his chair. Jon dropped his eyes to his fingernails and pretended he _wasn’t_ overwhelmingly and obnoxiously gay as fuck. “Yeah, I play with the guys a bit. We mess around on CoD and GTA five too.”

 _We should play together sometime!_ He kept his words locked behind clamped teeth because that was weird and he didn’t want to see an expression of confused disgust on such an attractive face. He didn’t want to bear the disappointment of his weirded-out voice saying the painful words of: “Sorry, no thanks”, or even worse: “I’m not into guys.”

So instead he blinked down at his paper and once again tried reading the words that just blurred together in a stubborn attitude of laziness. “Do you know what we’re doing for this thing?” His voice was of casual curiosity.

Evan spared him a knowing look and shrugged. “Yeah, it’s pretty straight-forward. You know what you’re doing right?”

Knowing he would look like a dumbass if he asked for another explanation _right_ after the teacher had just spent twenty minutes doing just that, he nodded slowly and decided to just tuck it away in his bag. He was also very aware Evan could likely tell the blue-eyed boy was clueless to their task. The punk wanted to wait until he came for help from him.

Still, he left it be and sat back in his chair. Thoughtlessly, he answered questions and breezed through the first two pages. “Are you going to Wondrous?” he asked resting his pencil down much like Jon had done, except the page beneath it was filled out and understood.

“The music festival?” Evan nodded and Jon tipped back in his seat. He tried not to stare straight at the other boy’s paper, nor straight at his face. He forced his gaze out the window and watched the leaves of the closest tree flutter back and forth. “Yeah, all our friends are going together.”

The punk nodded, the motion acknowledged in Jon’s peripherals. “Awesome!” he paused for a moment before allowing his enthusiasm to drop down a notch. Jon dropped his head slightly to hide the smile he could no longer suppress. For such a hot punky cliché, Evan Fong was simply adorable. “I mean, that’s cool,” he fixed, clearing his throat. When Jon could swallow his grin down to a small smile, he looked back at the boy beside him who was still cooling the red tint on his cheeks. “Maybe we’ll run into each other then, Flower Boy.” He grinned, the pink fading and Jon silently sucked in a breath between his teeth.

_His fucking smile!_

Jon swallowed with difficulty. “Yeah, maybe.”

Their conversation was cut short by two loud claps from the teacher as he pranced back up to the front of the class. His voice encircled each student as he explained the remainder of their expected work, due dates and other details. After one or two sentences, Jon just zoned out again, hands delicately touching the crown in his hair to make sure nothing was caught. When the bell rung through the man’s instructions, he waved his hands at the class and the students stood, gathered their belongings and headed for the door.

“Where’s your class? Mine’s B2.” Jon tried not to stare in surprise as the two gathered their things.

Both boys got along, that was obvious to anyone. They laughed and giggled at the same stupid jokes and had no trouble in making fun of and laughing at one another. Evan’s quiet and polite attitude melted away to muttering jokes under his breath and snorting into his fingers in awful attempts to stop laughing. The flower boy felt little parts of him crumble each time the other let out a laugh (or failed to stop himself from doing so). He could feel his attraction becoming a big fat crush and didn’t know whether to revel in it or shove it away with all he could.

The fact that Evan was hinting he wanted to walk with Jon was alarming and flattering and made his tummy do little cartwheels. He wanted to spend as much time as he could around the punk, hypnotised by everything about him, but he knew better than to cling if he wasn’t exactly wanted. He definitely didn’t want to scare Evan off.

But the fact that the boy was wanting to spend more time with Jon, and talk to him more, and get to know him better… It made the boy pleasantly surprised to say the least. “B5,” was all he managed to get out of his mouth and he felt his lungs completely shut down at the other’s successful smile.

“Let’s go then,” he hurried, grabbing Jon’s wrist for half a second to tug him in the direction of the door. As they walked, Jon struggled to focus on anything other than how his wrist seemed to tingle and burn, and how every few steps his shoulder would knock against Evan’s. “What bands do you like that are gonna be at Wondrous?”

Jon lit up with excitement at the mention of it, his steps bouncing. “I know pretty much all the ones that are going to be there, I can’t wait. Brock’s just going because he loves the atmosphere but I’ve been waiting to hear some of these artists for so long,” he said, glancing up at Evan only to look back to his feet and away from the doe eyes that he met. “What about you?”

“Oh, er, I like a lot of them too. I don’t know all but I’ve heard of a few and I like the vibe they all run with.” He blinked out of his trance, only to receive a little amused huff from the blue-eyed boy beside him. “What!” he demanded, nudging him playfully only for him to laugh more.

When he looked up, Evan felt himself tumble back into his hypnosis. “Only you would use the excuse of ‘liking their _vibe_ ’.” The punk, relatively confused, couldn’t understand why his choice of words were so amusing but had no chance to ask as they reached their separation point.

“Whatever, Flower Boy, get to class.” He smiled softly, pausing just slightly as Jon stopped in front of the door with his class number on it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jon said quickly, touching his arm lightly before turning and trotting through the door.

As he sat down and gathered his necessities, he felt his fingertips tingle and burn and kept his head down as his cheeks glowed red. His phone dinged in his pocket, the notification of a message muffled by his jacket. He ignored it, but couldn’t help pulling it out when it dinged several more times.

 

**_Monday, 14:03_ **

**Twink One - > Moo-Moo, “Jay”, Mini Thot, Suni, Terroriser and Twink Two.**

**Twink One:** FLOWER

 **Twink One:** BOI

 **Twink One:** That boy is not straight, I promise you.

 **Mini Thot:** we know??? it’s jon?? he’s gay as fuck?

 **Twink One:** no you dumbass

 **Twink One:** he was walking and talking with evan

 **Twink One:** who called him flower boy again because he’s gAY AS FUCC

 **Terroriser:** JON YOU SEXY MOTHER FUCKE RGET THAT HOT MAN

 **“Jay”:** guys please

 **Suni:** gay

 **Mini Thot** : babe why

 **Suni:** ;)

 **“Jay”:** y r u like this

 **Suni:** y r u gay?

 **Twink Two:** because Evan’s got a dick not a pussy.

 **“Jay”:** i mean ur not wrong

 **Suni:** g a y

 **Mini Thot:** babe you like girls

 **Suni:** stfu you don’t know me…

 **Mini Thot:** you dated a girl before me

 **Suni:** fight me craig

 **Mini Thot:** no???

 **Suni:** you would, pussy

 **Mini Thot:** wjhY?>???

 **Terroriser:** can you guys be straight somewhere else?? im tryna read some good shit from ma boi shaikspere up in here.

 **Twink Two:** I fucjking hope you spelt that wrong on purpose

 **Terroriser:** do you think im dumb?

 **“Jay”:** yes

 **“Jay”:** spell itproperly then

 **Terroriser:** give me a second….

 **“Jay”:** without googling it, asshole

 **Terroriser:** um

 **“Jay”:** moron

 

He slipped his phone back into his pocket, Brock falling into the seat beside him and almost collapsing down onto the table. Jon placed a hand on his back. “What’s up, homo?”

Brock’s head lifted from the plastic, eyes drooping. “You mean ‘homie’?”

Jonathon smiled. “Did I stutter?”

Brock’s head returned to his desk.

“Hey gay boys.” The Irish accent had a groan falling from Brock’s mouth, and Jon turned to watch as Brian fell down in the empty seat behind him. He watched with high amounts of amusement as the boy looked up at his desk partner, the intimidatingly tall guy who hung out with Evan, and grinned. “Tyler,” he drawled excitedly, his smile shit-eating as he held up his fist. “My man!”

The boy’s expression barely shifted, a slight grimace of some sort of mix between irritation and disgust as he stared at Brian’s knuckles with pale blue eyes. “Don’t talk to me.” He sat back in his chair, pointedly facing the front of the class and not the snickering Irish boy.

Brian, ever persistent, blatantly ignored the instruction. “Why don’t you tell us some stuff about your lovely Canadian pal—“

Tyler’s sharp eyes fell back to Brian. “I could not care less about your little crush on Evan, ask him yourself.”

Brian’s face went bright red and he spluttered, shapeless words falling from his lips in pathetic attempts at explaining that he was not the one with the crush. Jon clamped his hand over his mouth, cutting off the laughter that fought its way past his lips. Brian no longer let sound even try to escape him as he ducked his red face and, for once in his life, chose to stay silent to avoid embarrassing himself further.

The giant beside him seemed unfazed, completely ignoring him as he stared out the window and played with the silver stud beneath his bottom lip.

Brock had lifted his head, through his tire, and his lips were twisted with a smirk as he locked eyes with Brian. “Karma,” he mouthed silently and the Irish boy just dropped his gaze to his desk as the other giggled, turning back to the front and pulling out his booklet.

 

**_Monday, 16:02pm._ **

**“Jay” - > Terroriser, Mini Thot, Moo-Moo, Suni, Twink One and Twink Two. **

**“Jay”:** looks like im not the only one who has the hots for evan, hey bri? ;)

 **Terroriser:** ohhh my god don’t bring that up

 **Moo-Moo:** “straight” he says. “I like girls” he says

 **Suni:** wait brian likes evan?!

 **Terroriser:** no!

 **“Jay”:** ye

 **Moo-Moo:** yup

 **Mini Thot:** knew he was gay at heart <3

 **Terroriser:** ok it was karma whatever and im bi, you fucker, i like girls

 **Terroriser:** wait shit how do I delete my message um

 **Terroriser:** GUYS YOU’RE ALL READING THIS I CAN SEE YOU

 **Terroriser:** uhh... suni you’ve been typing for like three minutes

 **Suni:** BITCH HELL THE FUCK YEAH YOU ARE BI, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF ASS SHIT, I GOD DAMN CALLED IT, I KNEW IT FROM THE START, SINCE YOU WERE THAT IRRITATING KID IN KINDEGARTEN I CALLED IT. I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW WHAT BISEXUALITY WAS WHEN I WAS THAT YOUNG, HECK I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT HOMOSEXUALITY WAS. I STILL KNEW. MY GAYDAR FLOURISHED LIKE A ROSE WHEN I WAS BORN AND I JUST KNEW LIKE I KNOW THAT CUTE FRESHMAN I WALK PAST ON THE WAY TO MATHS IS GAY AS ALL HELL she’s also gorgeous buT YOU WOULDN’T KNOW MUCH BOUT THAT WOULD YOU SON, COZ TYOU AINT AS STRAIGHT AS YOU THOUGHT HUH?! WHO TOLD YOU? WHYO CALLED IT? WHO IS A GOD DAMN QUEEN AND GODESS IN ALL HER RIGHTFULNESS? THAT’S RIGHT BITCHBOYS. ITS ME. GET FUCKED

 **“Jay”:** 0.0

 **Mini Thot:** oh my god

 **Terroriser:** well

 **Twink Two:** sh00k as fuck

 **“Jay”:** craig ur gf just fucked bri’s ego in the ass im sorry for his loss

 **Mini Thot:** im not even sad

 **Terroriser:** fuck

 **Moo-Moo:** it’s gonna take you a while to recover from that one…

 **Terroriser:** i think im crying???

 **Suni:** peace out, sluts, have fun picking up bitchboy’s masculinity

**Suni left the chat.**

**Twink One:** i’ll get the dustpan bois

 **Terroriser:** i dont…

 **Terroriser:** i…

 **“Jay”:** he’s just… broken… wow

 **Twink Two:** R.I.P Brian’s Masculinity, 9.9.17.

**Terroriser left the chat.**

**Mini Thot:** i don’t know what to say. i just witnessed my girlfriend murder in cold blood

 **Twink Two:** its ok mini, just don’t look at the blood and pretend you saw nothing

 **“Jay”:** i need some holy water, i just watched a boy get fucked

 **Moo-Moo:** suni terrifies me

**“Jay” left the chat.**


	4. bruising knuckles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these updates are likely just going to end up weekly, maybe twice a week if I get productive, but otherwise just expect one each weekend maybee <3  
> i'm not sure if this chapter even turned out well, it took me a lot of mixing and mashing because i messed up one part.
> 
> i also have a six minute speech to write in the next week and a half so im sorry if that sets back my story but it's incredibly important to me and i have to get it done.  
> thanks a lot!
> 
> gi

**4.**

**_Tuesday, 8:34_ **

**“Jay” - > Terroriser**

**“Jay:** if you make detention difficult for me im going to spill your deepest darkest secrets to the whole school

 **“Jay”:** i promise u

 **Terroriser:** ;)

 **Terroriser:** what are my deepest darkest secrets huh?

 **“Jay”:** …

 **“Jay”:** im not sure yet but ill think of them

 **“Jay”:** dont test me

 

“No flowers today?” Evan stopped in front of Jon with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his lips.

The brunette blinked at him in surprise, unable to stop himself from glancing at the four classmates Evan had left behind. Pierced faces and piercing stares watched the two of them with a bored sort of curiosity. Jon subtly stepped to the left as to put an oblivious Evan between himself and the intimidating boys. He shrugged.

“Yeah, decided not to,” he offered half-heartedly, voice timid. Evan watched him for an extra moment before reaching out and pinching the fabric of his shirt. He tugged it towards him in a request for the boy to follow, and turned, strolling back to the four guys, all of who continued to watch them unblinking. Jon hesitated, but after Evan glanced back and waved him forward, he reluctantly allowed his feet to follow.

He took his sweet time in joining Evan. He tended to be difficultly shy around strangers, especially strangers who were terrifying in most ways teenage boys could be. He kept his head bowed slightly and refused to make eye contact with even Evan, who put a hand of reassurance on his shoulder. Jon took a moment to acknowledge they were all tall as fuck. “This is Marcel, Tyler, David and John,” Evan addressed the smaller boy with a simple introduction, before turning to his friends. “Guys, this is Jay. Be nice, he’s cool.”

None of them said anything for a few more moments, before Tyler nodded at the shorter boy. “Yeah, you sit in front of me in Maths.” Jon released the breath he was holding. “You’re friends with the annoying Irish moron, aren’t you?”

He tried not to laugh at the comment, highly amused that Brian had left a staining impression already, and nodded but remained voiceless. “What’re ye tryin’ to say ‘bout Irish people, huh?” David sent a frown Tyler’s way, not taking the time to acknowledge the new addition to their little circle. His accent was thick around his words and at Tyler’s expression of are-you-fucking-stupid, he huffed a sigh. “I’m Irish, ye bastard!” he explained, insulted his own friend supposedly wasn’t aware of the fact.

“Oh my God, David.” Marcel rubbed his face with one hand as Tyler continued staring at the Irish boy with a look of pure disbelief. John just snickered. “He knows that, you fucking idiot.”

Jon watched with pursed lips, Evan flashing him a little smile as David ran a hand through his curls. The lanky teen looked dishevelled enough, only looking more-so as he unintentionally messed up his hair. He was far too confused about how the conversation had swerved. “I don’t get it.”

“There’s nothing to get. You’re just dumb as fuck.” Tyler’s voice was flat; disappointed and exhausted with the effort it took to deal with the Irish idiot who seemed to hear things no one else did and managed to spike conversations about literally nothing.

A whistle blew and the three class collected before the teachers. Tyler walked past David, shaking his head, and Marcel just sighed. John flashed Jon a grin and a wink to which he nervously smiled in response to. Evan tugged on Jon’s shirt once again and the two walked beside each other to join the rest of their class.

The teacher rattled off information and instructions, a simple rotation of eight volleyball games, each with two teams of six.

“Perfect!” Marcel claimed, grinning at the smaller boy as everyone stood to get into groups. “With _Jay_ we have the perfect number.” His grin was far more enthusiastic than Jon was comfortable with, but Evan only nodded. He stayed beside Jon the whole time, whether he meant to or not, and either way the boy was grateful for it.

Alongside five boys far taller, far bulkier and far more intimidating than Jon, he kept his eyes on the ground and voice silent as they made their way to their assigned court and waited. None of them cared to speak either, no need for chitchat. Four faces showed only boredom, one showed silent thought and the sixth wore anxiety like a mask. None of the other five bothered to acknowledge said nerves, waiting as other groups were sorted and directed until another team stopped on the other side of their net. They seemed to assess their opponents with intense concentration.

The whistle blew and their little game begun, the other team far too competitive for a simple school sport class of volleyball. Marcel and Evan took the centre of the game, the most physically active in their group, and dodged around each other without need for verbal communication. The others played their parts, not caring much as the game dragged on.

Jon just watched, every now and then pushing the ball up when it came to him and allowing Tyler or Evan to hit it over. He didn’t care much for sports. It wasn’t as if he was unfit or terrible at them, he just didn’t find time to care or work on his fitness. The team overall played well with little effort and kept up with the other team’s score with ease. Their opponents, however, were playing for their lives. Each player was sweating up a storm as they cried out different calls and performed unnecessarily complicated moves in attempts to destroy the other team.

They won, but didn’t get much satisfaction as the whistle blew after twenty minutes and they strutted off to their next court.

The second team to step onto their court was careless and unfocused. They didn’t even spare Evan’s team a glance, allowing themselves to be beaten without any effort in playing back.

The third team came with problems. The moment they stepped up, Jon instantly noticed Evan and the boys around him change. The Canadian raised his head, shoulders squaring in an obviously agitated posture. The pastel boy felt himself shrink as the opposing six looked his team up and down with turned up noses.

“Fucking goths.”

Jon glanced back, feeling extremely small as both teams submerged one another with tension. All other members of his team stared directly through the net, eyes sharp with different ranges of anger, irritation and pride.

“Come again?” Marcel took a step forward, head high and tone sharp. He and Tyler were fuming at the slightest drop of insult that fell from the other team’s lips. John stepped up beside Marcel in caution, least fazed by the scoffing and sneering. They were just a bunch of jocks and he saw no point in squabbling, but he knew the pride of his friends

They shared glances - rolled eyes and mimicking flickering between one another as they shot back nasty glares to the angered group. Marcel rolled his shoulders, lip twitching with a snarl. With his friend’s close proximity, he exhaled heavily and stepped back.

“Don’t bother,” Evan muttered, also glancing at his friends. They kept to themselves, but he knew they were all quite easily offended, especially if called out directly. He knew that if their boundaries were pushed, any one of them would not be afraid to throw punches and defend their pride. Even he was struggling to keep his composure.

A particular brunette with broad shoulders and a fit body was smirking directly at the Canadian boy despite his attempts to keep his cool. “How’s your sister?” The moment the sickly words fell from the asshole’s lips, David was beside Evan with a hand on his shoulder and a hand on his chest.

The taller boy murmured in a soft voice, hold on his friend strong and careful. Jon heard the words: “Don’t bother”, “last time” and “suspended” before Evan nodded and David backed off. The whole court reeked of hatred and fury and the insults were spat across the net from the one side almost constantly. Empty words with petty insults. Evan had cooled and instead focused his anger into his playing, but the more the other team lost, the more spiteful they got.

“Quit bitching,” Tyler spat at one point to which mocking laughter was sent back. He grit his jaw and the rest of them tried (with difficulty) to swallow their pride and ignore them.

After seventeen minutes, the blonde asshole’s eyes landed on Jon who was still partially hiding behind the team and staying very quiet. When he looked up and met obnoxious hazel eyes, he stayed still and almost stopped breathing. For the next few rounds, nothing changed except for the constant snarling and staring at Jon in particular.

When Evan spiked the ball down and won another point, the boy’s stare became more hateful and raised to meet Evan’s glare straight on. “Why bother with the twink? He your servant or some shit? Your new bitch?” The words were pointless and probably not meant to do much other that pick at the team’s irritation.

Jon shied away still, unable to help his simple fear. He didn’t have Brock or Brian or Lucas; he was very out of place among the punky boys and being singled out only spiked his anxiety. He may have been a bit of a loudmouth but he wasn’t very brave. Evan turned slightly, meeting his gaze with brown eyes of anger. He seemed to look over the boy for a moment before swinging his attention back to the shit-eating grin.

He didn’t say anything. He knew better. Doing so would only provoke more bullshit and they definitely could do without that.  

Jonathon glanced to the side, meeting John’s eyes unexpectedly. The boy nodded at him in reassurance and he managed a small smile. No matter their silence, the dickhead thought to continue.

“I didn’t think your standards were _that_ low,” the brunette stated, voice raising in volume as he threw the ball over. Hazel glared blue down with disgust. “I’d be embarrassed to even stand so close to the faggot.”

A lot of things happened in the following ten seconds. A moment of shame fell over Jonathon, a glimpse of embarrassment to be himself around the others. He acknowledged David glancing at him with an inkling of worry but was too focused on Evan who had taken two large threatening steps forward to the net. The boy took one back as the net was yanked up, but was far too slow to react as John took four big strides across the court, under the net, to the piece of shit.

“What the fuck did you just say ‘bout him?” John grabbed a fistful of his shirt, yanking him right up close. Hazel eyes widened with surprise, but continued to twinkle with mocking. John waited.

Clearly, this kid didn’t know when to quit. “I said,” he leaned forwards, pushing against the hand at his chest, “he’s a little faggot who deserves to be fucking shot.”

Jon heard a very specific crunch as knuckles met the boy’s face. His head snapped back, unable to absorb the blow at how he was being held up, and instead received an agonising wave of whiplash.

“You don’t know fucking shit about anything, do you?” Another punch. His friends started yelling and one stepped up to the pair only to be blocked off by Evan. David grabbed John’s shoulder, but was easily shoved off as the boy threw another punch. “You got an issue with faggots? Shut the fuck up about it, because that boy isn’t the only “faggot” on this court and just because he might sit back and take it does not mean I will too, fuckass.”

Blood was seeping from the boy’s nose, whimpers and cries of pain dropping from his lips. Tyler grabbed John’s arms from behind, yanking him back. “Get off him, dumbass,” he snapped as John yanked the likely-concussed boy after him. When he finally shoved him back, letting go and flexing his fingers. The teachers rushed to the scene, all other courts stopped and stared.

Blood spilt out of the boy’s shattered nose, eyes wide and bleeding tears as he glared up at John. “What the fuck man!?” he gasped out, friends both sides of him, and a teacher helping him to his feet. He spat a glob of blood in John’s direction. “Fucking faggot.”

Tyler snapped his arms around the infuriated teen, holding him back as he went to lunge forwards once more. “I’ll break more than just your nose, you senseless cunt,” he growled and allowed Tyler to walk him back off the court.

Jon hadn’t moved an inch. He didn’t know where to move, or what to do. The teachers ignored him, Evan stayed by the net, eyes on the brat who was carrying on about the uncalled-for attack. The teacher told him to shut his trap, shoving ice to his nose.

“Fong. Move away.” The punk spared a glance to the male teacher, before nodding and stalking over to where his four friends were crowded.

Jon didn’t let his gaze linger on the bleeding classmate, turning and drifting slowly over to his team. He didn’t let himself get closer than three metres, choosing to just stare at the lines on the floor and curl his arms around himself in comfort.

He was shaking very slightly, and every breath of air was painfully cold. The words meant nothing. They were just homophobic and nasty. He knew there was nothing wrong with being gay, nothing wrong with anything of the sort. He knew that, he did. But the fact that someone honestly wanted him to be shot, someone honestly believed he was better dead than anything…

“Are you okay?” Hands settled on the sides of his shoulders and he looked up at Evan. Brown eyes filled with caution and concern, firm with lingering fury.  

Instead of answering he glanced around the boy to John who was still glaring across the court. “Is he?”

Evan shook his head. “He’s fine, he’s given and taken worse,” the boy promised. “Are you good? Nothing he said was at all true; he was just trying to get on our nerves because he knows we get angry and act on it too easily. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you, I want you to know that.”

Jon nodded, still unable to think up any sort of response. He kept his eyes on Evan’s shoes.

“We’re not embarrassed to be around you either.” His words were firm but Jon refused to look up. Evan took that as a notion to continue. “We keep to ourselves, and the guys may act cold but it’s mostly that they don’t care about anything, rather than they don’t want you around. I want y-”

Jon didn’t get to hear what he said as a teacher started yelling, attracting both boys attention to where he stood before John. “What the Hell do you think you’re doing!? You’re seventeen but that’s no excuse to be fighting for the sake of fighting. We do not tolerate violence!”

The two boys watched with caution as John glared straight back, defiance and anger in his gaze. “Yeah well you shouldn’t tolerate homophobia either. This dumbass school won’t do anything about it, so I will. He called this kid a faggot, are you saying that’s okay?” John motioned towards Jonathon who almost ducked behind Evan to hide. The punk stepped closer to him and didn’t react at the hand that grabbed a hold of his shirt seeking stability.

“We do not tolerate violence.” The teacher stepped back with his repeated words and Tyler stepped closer to his friend who looked about to attack the teacher instead.  

“So you would have preferred me sit back and let this guy get slurred at and cursed at and picked on because of a normal thing such as sexuality? You think calling someone a faggot should go unpunished?” His voice grew louder with every word, simmering fury bursting up into an uncontrollable forest fire once more.

The teacher glared, but was visibly uncomfortable. Jon felt uncomfortable too, he felt ashamed. His eyes stayed on the floor. “No, of course not-“

“Were you going to do anything about it?” The teacher was at a loss for explanation. The whole gym was listening. “What if I called you over? ‘Sir, this kid called my friend a faggot’, what then? Detention? Maybe a nice little chat outside, because that will surely teach him not to be homophobic! People like this will talk shit every day of their lives and think they can because they don’t care when people tell them what to and what not to do. People like this will only learn when they are given the treatment they deserve. When a guy my age calls my friend a violent, hateful word, I will treat him with violent, hateful actions. Tell me what I did wrong.”

No one spoke. No one knew what to say. The teacher’s face was red and his glare had lessened to a look of awkward embarrassment. There was nothing to say.

To whoever’s benefit, the bell rung through the room, and the classes began flowing toward the exit. Some lingered, curiosity and interest painting people’s faces. People loved drama. “Get out, all of you. No dawdling! Get dressed and go!” The female sport teacher shooed students from the room, all but the two teams that played one another.

The male teacher, still searching for something to say was ushered away as the female teacher moved towards them. “Yes John, your actions were of good intent and using such language is one hundred percent looked down on in the school, but violence was inappropriate and I will be writing to your mother. You’ll deal with two detentions and that is it.” The boy in question bit his tongue, accepting the light punishment. “Get out you lot, you have a class to get to I’m sure.”

They all nodded, drifting from the building slowly as to see what punishment was given out to the homophobic asshole.

“As for you Kyle, your language is highly disappointing and such an act of discrimination and bullying towards a peer is shameful. I’ll be writing a long email to your mother and father, and you’ll be receiving a week of suspension as punishment.” The boy gaped at her, but his complaints and whinging was cut short as she held up her hand. “You’ll heal. If you say violent things you should expect to be dealt with violent consequences. Get to the front office now.”

She stormed from the room with the other teachers behind her and the group of punks left the building.

Jon sucked in a deep breath of fresh air, understandably overwhelmed by the past hour’s events. He jumped at the hand on his shoulder and met John’s set gaze with wary. “Sorry for making such a scene, I don’t tolerate that shit and you shouldn’t either. Don’t ever feel ashamed about anything like that because you’re definitely not the only queer around here and there is nothing embarrassing about it.”

Feeling rather surprised, but pleasantly touched at the boy’s words, he nodded and smiled timidly. “Thank you.” He was surprised he managed to speak at all but wished he could manage more than just a mere two words. Still, the boy smiled and patted his back roughly, before turning and striding off towards his next class. David, Marcel and Evan acknowledged Tyler and himself silently before also walking off and it was just the two of them heading off towards their shared Science class.

Tyler looked over the brunette, and flicked his head. He didn’t say anything as he started walking but Jon gratefully fell into step beside him (rather hasty step, might he say, as Tyler’s legs were far longer than his). He accepted the silent company and focused his thoughts away from the people who watched with murmured words. He tried not to flinch the few times he heard the slur repeated. He tried not to pay any mind to how Tyler glanced at him. To see if he was still there, to see if he was still alright, to see if he was struggling in any way – he didn’t know. He tried not to think about it.

When they finally got to Science, Craig was bounding up to him. The blue-haired boy glanced curiously at Tyler who stood about a metre from Jon and didn’t bother to move off by himself. The still-anxious boy was rather grateful and smiled meekly at the excitable friend.

Craig noticed there was something odd almost instantly. “What happened?”

Jon shrugged, swallowing back his lingering shock and discomfort. “It’s nothing, some dick was just shit-talking Evan and his friends and had a go at me. He got hit so it’s fine.”

“It’s fine” didn’t seem to satisfy Craig’s worry, as his brows drew together in heavy concern. “What do you mean ‘had a go’?” he prodded.

Jon sighed, shrugging again as the rest of their class collected. “He just called me a faggot and John punched him and put him in his place. It’s honestly not a big deal, it was just shocking.” His words were heavy.

“That’s kind of a big deal.” Craig’s concern melted to disgust and irritation, and Jon shook his head wildly.

“Dude. He’s probably got a broken nose and concussion by now. He’s been suspended, it’s fine.”

They followed the flow of students into the class as Brock appeared on the other side of Craig. His curiosity was evident at both boy’s odd moods and he hassled Jon for information all class, successfully acting like a mother and to be true, Jon already had two, he didn’t need a third.

By the time recess came, far too many students knew about the event and people watched and whispered as the pastel boy stormed through the halls to the cafeteria. The obnoxious attention was putting him more and more on edge and he just wanted to be with his friends and away from prying curiosity.

When he fell into his chair with his tray almost empty of food, Lucas and Scotty shared a look. Suni spoke up before they could. “Are you alright?” she asked, all of them clearly aware of what had happened. Jon nodded shortly. “Do you want to pretend nothing happened?” He nodded again, exhaling with relief as his friends nodded in understanding.

“So detention’s a thing though, right?” Craig flipped the conversation expertly and everyone sat back in their chairs and began eating. The brit grinned at Jon who felt his anxiety wash away. “Lunch time? You and Evan? Playing music together in the music room? Ey? Ey?”

Brian appeared with perfect timing and a wide grin. “And me!” he crowed, teasing excitement showering Jon who sunk down in his seat.

“Not like anything’s gonna happen; it’s detention, you fucks.” His voice was clouded with defence.

Suni watched Lucas with wide eyes of interest as he showed off his flashy new shoes, awkwardly leaning back on Scotty and lifting both feet to rest on Brian. Neither boy bothered to shrug him off, used to his ostentatious behaviour and Suni held in her giggles as he almost kicked Brian in the face to show off the black and white shoes.

She babbled with excitement over the purchase as he righted himself, patting Brian on the face a bit too roughly to be affectionate. He listed off his other purchases that Jon and Brock had helped him decide on the afternoon previous, and he recounted the shops they’d been to and what happened. Suni made him promise that the two of them would go out and go shopping also. He agreed heartily before she turned to her boyfriend and proceeded to prod and poke at him as to distract him from his conversation with Brock.

Jon sat heavy in his chair, an aura of comfortability shrouding him. His friends weren’t perfect, but they came pretty close in his book. The moment they knew he didn’t want to talk about it, they forgot anything was different. It was anything he could ever ask for and he didn’t even know how to say thanks.

“You sure you’re alright for the rest of today?” Brian very rarely had moments of solemnity. He loved to live life with a chirpy, careless attitude, and didn’t like to think twice about things. He let things pass and didn’t care for what it brought with it. But his mischievous gaze had become one of care and concern and Jon could only smile with an overwhelming amount of gratitude.

He nodded shortly, brushing away his friend’s worry. “I’ll see you in detention, Bri,” he said as the bell sounded throughout the large room. The group spared careful glances in Jon’s direction, but he walked off towards the music block without bothering to say anymore.

Suni caught up with him just outside the cafeteria and her reassuring smile calmed his nerves. A smile of: “Don’t worry, I won’t ask.” He fell into step beside her with ease and listened as she hummed along to whatever tune played in her head. It was calming and he didn’t have to speak.

Orchestra was simple and wordless. The brunette was able to focus solely on his playing and could melt into the music without any trouble at all. The melody cradled him and soothed the constant replaying of words and images in his mind. The recurring slurs shrunk to whispers and he welcomed a head with nothing but the sound of string instruments and occasional instruction from the teacher.

The hour drifted and he let his period one memories drift with it.

By the time everyone was packing up, Ms Rathe was pulling a chair and a stand over to the piano and giving Jon a look across the room. When he had put his instrument back in its case, he shamefully dragged it and himself over to her.

“Your company should be here sometime during lunch, I trust you’ll sign them in with the time they got here honestly?” she asked him, her pointed stare earning a weak smile and a nod. Suni gave him a grin across the room, pulled an over-exaggerated kissy face and winked before ducking into the storeroom and disappearing.

Students filtered out of the room, barely sparing the blue-eyed boy a second glance before he was left with his violin and the piano.

With a heavy sigh, he unpacked his instrument once again and placed it beneath his chin, bow to the strings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again! just a quick notice, a new friend of mine (hoywfiction) writes reALLy amazing stuff and he has a really sweet fic going on at the moment called "what's up guys". its a highschool au like this and more of a chat fic then mine and it's super funny and cute and has a really good plot compared to mine which literally has no plot :p  
> go check it out if you want a good read, he also updates hella lot more than me so plus-plus there :)
> 
> check it out here! - http://archiveofourown.org/works/12356841/chapters/28108020


	5. soft melodies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this has taken forever  
> been busy  
> i'll get the next one out asap  
> <3

**5.**

Evan could hear the violin playing from the music store room as he put his bag away. He couldn’t help the warm smile that lifted his face as he listened, walking slowly to the entrance of the music room. Thoughtlessly, he let his shoulder come to rest against the door as it silently shut behind him. Jon’s back was all he could see and he watched with simple curiosity as the boy swayed, moving with his arm back and forth with the bow in his fingers.

The melody was pleasant and flawless to Evan’s ears. His steps were slow and reluctant, not wanting to break the peace of the room and the boy. He took his time, fingers running along the padding on the walls. Each step was taken as though the ground beneath him would shatter and open up to swallow him whole.

The peace of the music kept the ground beneath his feet solid and strong.

Jon was halfway through his third piece when he heard and felt something move behind him. His eyes snapped open and the bow dragged along the strings of his violin with a painful screech. He spun around, shoulders pulled back with a spine made of metal. He relaxed upon acknowledging the source of the disruption, the punk standing four metres back with a guilty smile on his lips.

“Fuck’s sake.” The violinist exhaled, metal posture melting. “I think I just lost three years of my life.” He reached over to the paper on the top of the piano, marking Evan down as present and putting down the time he arrived.

“Hey.” The punk slipped around the side of him, finding his place on the piano seat. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Jon looked up at him with a teasing smile, completely unbothered. “I thought you wanted to be scary and intimidating?” Evan let out a little laugh, remembering his previous claim and shrugged not seeming to have any excuse other than the pretty glimmer in his eyes. Jon brushed it off, nodding at the large instrument in front of them. “You play piano too? I’ve only ever seen you on drums.”

Evan’s glimmer wavered, grimacing as his fingers automatically rose to rest on the black and white keys. “Ms Rathe is making me learn so I can play in more pieces in symphony. She’s given me a tonne of practice pieces to learn and this is her way of saying ‘get it done’.” The boy grabbed the booklet off the top of the piano, opening it and sitting it on the stand above the keys. He leant back, out of the way, as Jon rested a hand on the side of the piano stool so he could reach forward and flick through the booklet. Familiar and unfamiliar pieces painted the pages and he sat back after finding a certain song he knew on violin.

“Know this one?” he asked, picking up his smaller instrument. Evan studied the page.

“Yeah, I have played it before, but I’m not that great at piano.” He ran a hand through his hair and Jon shook his head.

“It’s fine! I can play to your speed. You start and I’ll follow.” He sat back in his chair, adjusting his posture and positioning of the violin. He settled the bow on the string and blinked at Evan with a smile. The punk had to tear his eyes away from said smile to focus on the instrument.

He sat up straight, fingers barely touching the keys as he scanned the sheet music before him. Exhaling softly, he swayed forward, fingers pressing down in a slow pattern of pre-determined keys in an order and rhythm that had a soft melody flowing through the room. Jon watched, awe lingering in his eyes at the careful way the boy’s fingers moved, the way he read the music with calm eyes and pinched brows. He almost forgot to start playing himself before he snapped out of his daze and drew the bow back, fingers sliding up and down the neck and making decisive, purposeful placement on the strings.

The violin and piano released notes that danced together in a joyous, slow tune. Jon’s eyes fell shut, lips pulling up in a little smile in satisfaction at the music, hands and fingers moving with memory of the piece, written music behind his eyes.

Evan let his eyes drift as he used each finger with ease and simplicity. The piece flowed through his blood down to his fingertips without much effort and he found the pages in front of him almost unnecessary. He glanced at Jon beside him who swayed slightly, body moving with his right arm and eyelids fluttering, almost too shy to remain completely shut. His lips stayed raised in the slightest breath of a smile and Evan couldn’t help but stare at the freckles that danced over his nose and cheekbones to the music he played.

His gaze fell back to his fingers as to not make a mistake and look foolish. A light flushed his lungs as he breathed deep and full, the mere sound and fluidity of the song filling him with enjoyment.

Jon had to hold back his laughter as to not ruin his playing, only opening his baby blues and staring at Evan with a joy he couldn’t vocally express. The song flowed for long, pretty minutes and he watched with awe and appreciation as Evan’s dark eyes wandered the pages. He effortless lifted his hand, no noticeable pause in his music as his left hand continue to dance and play. The page flipped and his hand fell back to the keys.

The pastel boy admired the way the punk’s fingers moved, the way they travelled to each key without hesitation or reluctance. He knew how to play far better than he let on and it was evident in the instrument’s voice.

“’I’m not that great at piano’ my ass,” Jon scoffed as both boys’ fingers lifted from the strings and keys. Evan smiled shyly and Jon found himself questioning how he ever ended up with such an   
“punky” reputation for the umpteenth time. The only thing “punky” about him was his appearance, but it was easily contradicted the moment he said anything. “That sounded amazing!”

Evan fought back the grin, he really did. “Your music masked any of my mistakes,” he corrected, shaking his head modestly. Jon dragged his chair closer so that it was pressed up along the side of Evan’s stool and grinned up at him.

“Play something else! What’s your best piece?” The pastel boy, eager to enjoy the fluidity of the pianist’s art watched as Evan silently flicked through the different songs. His lips were pink, as were his cheeks, and Jon bit his words down in fear of saying something he’d regret.

Jon waited in patience, trying to refrain from staring as the brown eyes drifted back and forth over the different titles. The silence that replaced the music was soft and lulling and finally when Evan sat back, a new piece sitting proud on the stand, he met Jon’s eyes briefly with a shy smile, before exhaling and allowing his fingers to return to the keys.

The music filled the entire room with a calmness, a faster beat than the previous melody but still one that filled Jon to the brim with a love for music. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched the taller boy play. Watching as he licked his lips and dragged the little silver piercing under his teeth. Watching as he moved ever-so-slightly in his seat, swaying forward with each new chord. His eyes fluttered with indecision between remaining open or falling shut and Jon could feel his adoration for the boy swelling in his chest.

He never noticed himself leaning closer. Some point during the piece he’d simply shifted from his seat onto the stool beside Evan. When the piece fell away to silence, and hands fell away from the keys, Evan turned and Jon found himself closer than he’d expected. His eyes blown wide and hands unsure where to settle, he just stared into dark chocolate orbs. They both waited for something of uncertainty and hesitation.

The lightest of touches settled on Jon’s knee and he felt his lungs tighten in anticipation. He swayed forward only a little, feeling the breath of the punk on his lips, curious to how soft the boy’s lips would be, curious to how the silver piercing would feel catching on his teeth, rubbing against his tongue.

A bang slammed through the room and both boy’s leapt apart in terror. The hand on Jon’s knee vanished and his fluttering lashes snapped wide open. Evan slapped a hand to his chest, alarmed eyes staring at the entrance to the room.

“Hey fuckboys! ... Did I interrupt something?” The Irish accent had Jon’s fingers running through his hair with unheard curses lashing out behind his eyes. He caught Evan’s eye at a complete loss of what to do or say or think. They had been _so close_. The punk seemed barely fazed, not a flicker of regret or surprise or reluctance. He flashed a small smile and Brian howled with laughter, strutting over to the both of them. “I did interrupt something, didn’t I?”

Jon turned to him, shooting him a sharp glare but unable to hide the flushing red that washed over his face. “No you didn’t, fucktard. Fourth period is in literally in ten minutes, why are you here now?”

The grin of Brian’s face didn’t change as he sat himself on the piano stool where Jon had previously been seated, between the two boys. He looked back and forth at them, large smile meeting a pinched glare on his right and a little smile on his left. Evan didn’t bother with either boy, choosing for a swift change of thought as he flicked to the next song and allowed his fingers to do the work.

Shooting Brian one last glare, Jon picked up his instrument in recognition of the piano tune, counting himself in before allowing his own melody to dance around and mingle with that of Evan’s. Brian hummed along, no point in retrieving his own instrument as he wrote down an earlier time to which he supposedly arrived.

They played through three more songs without talk or chitchat, Brian trying to bring up anything to prod them for information, asking how the start of their detention had been, what they were doing, why it was suddenly so silent before he arrived.  Both Jon and Evan brushed him off without a thought and Jon’s worry and concerns about the air between himself and the punk faded almost instantly when he received a sneaky smirk and a sly wink that Brian missed in his obnoxious whining.

He settled in his chair and bit back his smile with red cheeks, turning away slightly. They packed up before the bell went and Evan split from the two of them to head to his Science class. Brian linked arms with Jon rather aggressively, dragging him down the next hall with a lot of enthusiasm and a large grin.

The shorter brunette just rolled his eyes, waiting for the question he knew was to come. “So!” There it was. “What did I walk in on, huh Jonny Boy?” The question had been asked frequently between pieces of music but with no violin beneath his chin, Jon didn’t have much of an excuse for his silence.

He just shrugged, a little amused smile on his lips. Brian pushed and pulled his arm impatiently, shaking him from side to side. “Come onnn,” he whined, lips puckered in a grumpy pout. “You looked like you were kissing! Did you kiss? Please tell me you kissed, tell me you did anything?” The boy seemed to drop down to the age of fourteen as he whinged and whined. He stopped mid-thought, gasping in excitement and yanking Jon closer as the boy giggled and laughed. “What about his piercing! Did his tongue piercing feel cool? Did he bite your lip? Is he a good kisser!?”

Jon couldn’t deny his amusement, his Irish friend so impatient and nosy he simply _had_ to know what was going on at all times. Leaving him unanswered was just funny.

“No Bri, we didn’t kiss, you dumbass.”

The disappointment was evident and vocal, a long, loud “aww” spilling from his lips like water. Jonathon didn’t let the grin drop from his lips as Brian dropped his arm and half-heartedly shoved him away. He pouted, easily resembling a nine-year old child.

“I mean, had you walked in twenty seconds later we _could have_ been, but no one really knows I guess.” Despite the redness that settled on his cheeks, he _loved_ to tease the Irish boy and the guilt and horror in his eyes was enough satisfaction to drown out the embarrassment at the idea of being so close to kissing Evan.

Brian’s distress shrouded his expression almost instantly, to know it was he who prevented such an _event_. Jon wouldn’t have been surprised if the boy’s eyes had begun to water; he looked like a kicked puppy. The violinist just laughed, surprised at how unbothered he, himself, was by the almost-moment. He assumed his lack of worry was a result of the reassuring smile the punk had handed him under Brian’s nose. He couldn’t help the little blush that seemed to stain his freckled cheeks as the image of said smile and wink replayed in his mind over and over.

He had to resist raising a hand to rub at the redness, in fear of drawing attention to it, as they arrived at their class. Jon instantly noticed Tyler, standing off to the side with a headphone in one ear. His crystal eyes drifted to the pastel boy, emotionlessly studying him for a moment, before shifting to Brian.

Jonathon tried not to snort as he grimaced, unseen by the Irish boy who was too enraptured in spilling his guts to Brock about what an awful _crime_ he’d committed by “cock-blocking” his dear gay friend. Brock had to be reassured and calmed by Jon confirming he had not, despite Brian’s wording, been about to get fucked on a piano, and nothing had actually gone down in their lunchtime detention.

The class drifted into their room, taking their place at their usual desks. Tyler glared Brian down, possibly hoping the nuisance of a boy would find another place to sit. Undeterred, he sat down beside the taller teen, and grinned knowingly. Jon just shook his head, a little smile on his lips and a look of pity in his baby-blues for Tyler who rolled his eyes and swivelled in his seat to block the Irish boy from his sight and mind.

Brock settled beside Jon, questions dropping from his lips in hushed whispers that were bashfully brushed off in the presence of their other classmates. All the boy got in answers was: “No Brock, we did not kiss, now _shut up_ the whole class doesn’t need to know!”

The whole duration of the lesson Jon spent trying to ignore the giggling from behind him, and the grinning and intense thinking beside him. The two boys were far too invested in Jon’s interactions with Evan, though the blue-eyed boy couldn’t deny the giddiness that flushed his own system at the thought the punk. He had to force his thoughts away from how close they were to kissing before his face lit on fire in the middle of his maths class. He didn’t miss Brock’s excited, knowing grin and ducked his head further.

Yep, his face was definitely going to set on fire.

 

-

 

The walk to history was one of panicked thoughts and a lot of unnecessary freaking out. Evan met him outside with pocketed hands and a small smile. There was no indication that he was thinking about their almost-kiss, or any sign of being grossed out, embarrassed or upset about it. He didn’t seem to have any reaction to it at all and Jon almost wondered if he acknowledged it in the first place. It seemed too impossible to forget those four seconds that seemed to last minutes, too impossible to not notice how the room had held its breath in anticipation. There was no way Evan was oblivious to what could have happened, given they’d have a few more seconds.

The punk found it too easy to put it to the side, whether that meant leaving it to address at a later time, or just pretending it never happened. Jon chose to adopt the same attitude, smiling lightly and stepping close as they waited for the teacher.

They exchanged few words before they were finding their seats and Evan was once again claiming the one beside Jon. Anthony and his friend, also dubbed Anthony, took their places behind the two, grinning in harmless amusement. Jon smiled back, less enthusiastically of course, but didn’t let them steal his attention or get the chance to say anything that would embarrass him. Neither boy did so, instead pulling out their tasks and starting lazily on their work.

Reluctantly, Jon removed his own task booklet from his bag, Evan following his example, and he tried not to completely ignore the teacher who led them into another lesson with explanations of their objectives, due dates and expectations. He began slowly reading through the front page of instruction, uncertainty and completely lack of knowledge towards the topic filling his brain. It was some sort of research topic in which they had to produce a poster on a certain set of events that occurred in World War II.

He hated research tasks. They were too tedious and boring and he honestly had other things to do rather than googling bullshit that he barely even paid attention to.

Flipping over to the first work page, he filled in little points of basic information about the war and its events. A comfortable silence swarmed his mind, allowing him to pay a decent amount of attention to the work he was getting done. The teacher handed out textbooks at one point and Jon watched with more attention than he gave his own paper as Evan’s slender fingers flicked through the pages, taking an agonisingly long time to find what he was looking for.

Those fingers were doing wonders in Jon’s imagination.

They smoothed out a page and Evan placed the book between them before casually mentioning, “There’s a lot of relevant info in this chapter if you’re doing the beginning of the War.”

Still undecided on his actual main area of focus, the shorter boy nodded hastily. “Er, y-yeah, that’s what I was thinking of going for.” There was a complete lack of confidence behind his words, but Evan hid his smile.

“I’m sure you’ve got it, you’re good with History, aren’t you?”

Jon looked up at the punk, narrowing his blue eyes with accusation. The tone used was one of obvious tease and he knew just as well as Jon did that the brunette was clueless about the task entirely. His pride refused to outright accept defeat, tilting his head up slightly. “Of course,” he said bluntly, seeing Evan’s smile widen.

“Need me to come by and help you with it after school?”

Jon didn’t break his proud stare, sucking his bottom lip back between his teeth. His gaze dropped and pride lowered with his muttered, “Yes please…”

The laugh that fell from Evan’s grinning lips had red crawling up Jon’s neck for reasons other than embarrassment. He averted his eyes before he could catch himself gawking at the satisfied amusement written all over the unfairly-attractive teen beside him.

“How do you get home? Does it suit if I come by today seeing as we don’t have rehearsal?” Jon tried not to freak out at the suddenness of the offer because _Evan Fong was going to go home with him and help him with his work_.

He let out the breath he was holding, willing himself not to act weird or awkward as he tried to make sense of their conversation. “I, er, yes, yeah! Sure. That should be fine, I mean, Brock usually drops me off on his way home…” he trailed off, not knowing where to go with his words. Evan watched him thoughtfully.

“I can take you home,” he offered simply and Jon frowned for a moment.

“Don’t you ride a motorbike?”

“Yeah, you can fit two on it.”

His face was _not_ going red, he was _not_ freaking out. “Um, okay?” If he wasn’t already struggling to breathe, Evan’s smile shut his lungs down altogether. His thoughts jumped to his home-life, his moms and he smiled slightly, despite the breathless feeling in his lungs. “You’re going to have to be ready to meet my moms.”

Brown eyes flickered with confusion. “Your mom’s what?” he asked, confused and quite obviously mistaken by Jon’s wording. Before he could even contemplate explaining, the bell rung and the teacher was talking loudly.

The brunette tried not to laugh too loudly, tried not to be too obviously amused at the taller boy’s confusion as they packed up. He had to press his fingers to his lips to control himself, before just smiling at Evan who was looking more and more confused and alarmed each second. “You’ll see soon enough, come on, I have to find Brock and tell him I’m going with you instead.”

Still trying to figure out what was so funny about what he’d said, Evan just nodded and followed slowly as the blue-eyed boy hurried down the hall. Before he could pick up his pace to follow, someone else appeared beside him. “Going over for a study date, hey Pretty Boy?” Anthony’s excitable smirk wasn’t disliked by the punk who just laughed and shook his head. The pothead had been in his classes for years and wasn’t a stranger, though some found his curiosity annoying and nosy. Evan didn’t find reason to be rude.

“Not a study date, just helping out,” he replied, falling into step beside the boy as they headed for the front of school. His hands found their home in his pockets and Anthony looked over him with a thoughtful smirk. Evan just shrugged, still smiling. “Honest.”

“You’re not gonna even try anything?” the Italian asked, almost hopeful.

“You’re far too invested in my life.” 

Anthony grinned, acknowledging the lack of a proper answer. “Only your love-life, Pretty Boy. Don’t fuck it up!” He patted the punk lightly on the shoulder before turning and vanishing into a classroom, likely a detention. With the crow of cheers that emitted from said room, it was very likely a detention, accompanied by his everyday group of smokers as usual.

Evan kept walking, making his way to the front of the school. Students mingled and moved, some eager to get home, some waiting for lifts or busses. He avoided groups and crowds, instead heading around to the left side of the building where students parked.

 

-

 

“Oh wow, you’re actually leaving me for Evan.” Heartbreak filled Brock’s eyes, lip quivering as he tried to hold back tears. “Is it because of the piercings? Do I just need to line my ears with metal and stick a stud in my tongue? Will you love me again then?”

Jon bit his lip, eyes pinched with laughter as he put his hands on his friend’s shoulders. “Look, Brocky, I’m not leaving you, he’s just helping me with my History!” he assured, only to be enveloped in a painfully tight hug.

“First it’ll be History, then it will be pregnancy!” he wailed. The over-exaggerated sobbing drew enough off looks as Jon patted his friend’s back reassuringly. After a few long seconds, he eased the clingy boy away, only to find a grin replacing the crumpled features of sorrow. “What are you gonna do together, huh? Gonna “study”, hey? Gonna get all cosy and comfy together?” He awkwardly winked, an action he was clearly not used to or comfortable doing, and Jon swatted at him as he tried to pinch his cheeks. “You have to tell me everything!” he gasped, clutching the boy’s wrists in a death-grip.

The pastel boy wriggled out of the grip, staggering back until there was a fair distance between them. Brock backed up to his car, grin still in place. “Have a safe trip home,” he cooed, eyes flicking up once, grin unwavering. His fingers lifted in a small wave before he dropped down into his car.

Jon turned, shaking his head, only to meet the collar of Evan’s leather jacket. He jumped in alarm, stumbling back and looking up in surprise. Evan smiled warmly, chocolate eyes sparkling with amusement. “Ready to go?” he asked, two helmets under his arms. Jon blinked, nodding hastily.

Evan grinned, raising a helmet and easily pushing it down on the shorter boy’s head. Jon squeaked in alarm, vision dark and head heavy. “Come on, the quicker we get to yours, the quicker we can get work done.” The soft voice was accompanied by a hand on Jon’s upper arm, the smaller boy still trying to adjust to the dimmer vision. His arm was pulled up slightly, the fingers running down until they were linked around his wrist and Jon was being tugged forward. “Bike’s this way, Jay.”

He could hear the smile in the punk’s voice and his own little grin formed beneath the helmet. When his wrist was released, he felt the fingers trail up the palm of his hand lightly. His blush remained hidden, to his benefit, as he watched Evan get onto the bike.

Jon followed cautiously, stopping by the vehicle while Evan put on his helmet. “Ever been on a motorbike before?” he asked, voice slightly muffled. Jon shook his head, unsurprisingly. Evan held out a hand, keeping it outstretched until Jon let their fingers lock loosely. “Leg over, sit just behind me.” He did as he was instructed, sinking into the comfortable seat and propping his feet up onto the little bars that stuck out for them.

Evan shifted, sitting centred, and pressed back against Jon’s front. His head tilted.

“Wrap your arms around me so you don’t fall. If you think you’re going to, yell real loud so I hear you.” His words reached Jon as he kicked the stand up and started the engine. The bike revved slightly, Jon’s arms squeezing the body they surrounded in fear. “Don’t worry!” Evan laughed, feeling the obvious fear from behind him. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Jon let his helmet rest against Evan’s back, trying to remember to breathe because he was on a motorbike and he was pressed right up against a boy too hot for it to be legal.

They pulled out of the carpark, Jon’s fingers forming fists in Evan’s shirt. He turned his head, still resting it against Evan, and watched the world pass on their left side. When he felt and heard his phone go off in his bag still on his back, he grimaced slightly. He’d chosen a very particular text tone for the group-chat and with his current situation, the message was likely predictable.

 

**_Tuesday, 15:23_ **

**Suni - > “Jay”, Twink One, Twink Two, Mini Thot, Terroriser, and Moo-Moo**

**Suni:**  jon and evan going home to fUCK

 **Terroriser:** wait what

 **Mini Thot:** yeah someone explain why jon is on the back of evans motorbiek what the fuck

 **Moo-Moo:** They’re going back to Jon’s to “study”

 **Twink One:** “study”

 **Twink Two:** “study”

 **Mini Thot:** “study”

 **Terroriser:** “study”

 **Suni:** “fuck”

 **Twink Two:** definitely

 **Suni:** ;)


	6. interruptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit early, but also not great quality, probs a bit rushed. i dont know man exams will be over next week, i'll be getting more of this shit done :)  
> let me know what you think!  
> gi

**6.**

Jon pulled his helmet off to reveal the massive grin on his face as he clambered off the bike. “That was incredible!” His words bubbled with excitement and Evan couldn’t help adoring the way his face glowed. He looked over the bike and its driver once again in awe, in love with how smooth a ride it had been. The trip had been simple and slow, but it felt like they had flown down the streets.

Before Evan had the chance to react, Jon was pointing at him, mind jumping from thought to thought without time to settle.

“Put your bike in the garage if you want,” he instructed, backing through the gate and taking the bag off his back to rummage through. “Come on in when you’ve sorted it! I’m gonna go say hi and get my shit sorted.”

He skipped back a few steps, pulling a key from his bag and darting to the door. Evan watched as the boy let himself in, before shaking his head and shifting his bike. After a few moments, he was standing on the doorstep, knuckles knocking twice on the door. It swung open to a thin pale woman with frizzy red hair tied back into a ponytail.

Her blue eyes glimmered as they took in his appearance. “You must be Evan, sweetheart. Come on in – I’m Riley, Jon’s just ran upstairs.” Her voice was warm and tired, only holding kindness for the teen who smiled and stepped inside. She shut and locked the door behind him before flicking her hands in his direction. “Go on, just call out to him and he’ll hear – he’s the only one up there.”

The ”only one” obviously referred to a lack of siblings, and not a statement of Riley and Jon being alone. Evan wasn’t expecting to get jumped on the way past the kitchen, and refrained from shrieking as his hands were snatched up. When he realised he was not actually going to be stabbed or screamed at and calmed down enough to acknowledge his “attacker”, he was met with large brown eyes and a big smile.

“Jon wasn’t lying when he said you were pretty!” The second woman was not unlike the first in the kindness her eyes wore and the punk didn’t at all feel unsafe or concerned about the house he was in. It did take him a few long minutes to wander who this woman was, seeing little resemblance of Jon in her. When Riley appeared at his side again, scolding blue eyes focused on the darker woman, he realised she didn’t bear much resemblance either. The blue eyes were something, but his face was nothing alike either woman.

“Alice! Leave the poor boy alone.” Pale fingers pulled the darker hands away, easing her back into the kitchen and away from the likely-terrified teen. She looked up at him, apologetic. “Don’t mind my wife, dear, head on upstairs. Tell Jonathon to let us know what the plan is!”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Evan tried not to stare or physically slap himself across the face in front of the two women, nodding and pulling his lips up in a kind smile. “Thank you,” he said before turning and hurrying to the staircase. “Jay?” he called, voice hesitant and wary of any other unexpected attackers. The only new soul he met was a thin black cat that watched him from a bookshelf.

“In here!”

Evan followed his friend’s voice, pushing open a grey door to reveal a wide room of a high ceiling and soft colours. When the punk let his eyes fall away from his surroundings to settle on his company, he recognised the knowing, highly-amused grin and bright blue eyes.

“You have two moms.” He stated more than questioned, and Jon’s grin only broadened as he nodded in confirmation. “You told me ‘moms’ as in plural, and I asked…”

Jon stood. “’Your mom’s what?’” he mimicked, head tilting in faked curiosity. Evan lifted his hands to his face, releasing a groan into his palms as he rubbed his eyes. Jon only laughed, head tilted back, eyes pinched in hilarity. “You’re an idiot, but it’s okay because it was funny.”

“I’m so sorry,” the punk muttered, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He didn’t protest to the fingers that curled around his wrist and pulled him forward, allowing himself to be lead across the room. The same fingers pushed his shoulder lightly, knees hitting the side of the bed and forcing him down onto the comforter. Evan could only shake his head at his own idiocy but managed to look up at Jon with pink-tinted embarrassed cheeks. “They’re really sweet though; I had no idea you were adopted, let alone had two moms. That’s really cool.”

Jon glanced up, beaming with a fondness in his eyes. “It’s not something I feel the need to talk about, but they’re the best parents I could have asked for. There’s no better family I could have become a part of.” His words were sincere and honest, an openness Evan didn’t think he deserved to see. The moment was put aside as quickly as it arose though as Jon pulled his laptop and file from his bag. Throwing them onto the bed, he joined Evan, a grin on his face. “Now, teach me how History works because I have no clue what this is?” he offered.

Evan pulled his own bag up, finding what he needed and laying it out on the bed as well. The owner of said bed shifted back to sit cross-legged in front of him, a textbook and the task papers between them with his laptop in his lap. Bright blue eyes set on him, sparkling with enthusiasm as he began to explain the entirety of their task.

 

**_Tuesday, 17:49_ **

**Suni - > Twink One, Twink Two, “Jay”, Moo-Moo, Mini Thot, and Terroriser**

**Suni:** so do you think they’ve fucked yet?

 **Terroriser:** probably doing the do as we speak ;)

 **Twink Two:** we rnt speaking tho?

 **Twink Two:** were txting?

 **Terroriser:** lucas

 **Terroriser:**  suck my dick

 **Twink Two:** is ur name john?

 **Twink Two:** didn’t think so bitch

 **Terroriser:** are you saying youd suck john’s dick?

 **Twink Two:** you heard me

 **Twink Two:** bitch

 **Twink Two:** u probably dont even hAVE a dick

 **Moo-Moo:** Lucas please

 **Twink Two:** huH BRIAN!?

 **Moo-Moo:** Lucas

 **Twink Two:** WElL?? PROBS HAVE A FUCKIN PUSSY DON’T YA

 **Suni:** hey

 **Suni:** i have one of those dont discriminate

 **Twink Two:** its ok suni ur pussy is probs great

 **Twink Two:** brian’s isn’t

 **Twink Two:** brian has an ugly pussy

 **Suni:** thnx

 **Twink One:** shut the fuck up oh my god

 **Terroriser:** I don’t know what to say

 **Terroriser:** we were talking about jon and evan fucking and now im getting bullied

 **Terroriser:** thats all this chat is, you fucks. You just bully me

 **Mini Thot:** why don’t you shut up then

 **Terroriser:** :(

 **Moo-Moo:** I feel bad for Brian

 **Terroriser:** :D

 **Moo-Moo:** But he’s also Brian and brings this on himself

 **Moo-Moo:** So I don’t feel _that_ bad

 **Terroriser:** D:

 **Moo-Moo:** :-)

 **Suni:** I love you brock

 **Suni:** ruin him

 **Moo-Moo:** love you too suni <3

 **Suni:** <3

 **Twink Two:** <==3

 **Moo-Moo:** good things just don’t last do they…

 **Twink Two:** ;) <3 luv u brocky

 

“Jon! Evan! Dinner’s on the table!” The two boys had worked through two full hours, allowing Jon to actually get a grasp on the task itself and start researching. Between all this, of course, the two chatted and laughed, speaking about their friends, their families; their lives in general. Nothing too personal or deep was shared, but the two got along with no trouble at all.

When Alice’s sing-song voice reached their hearing, the two easily brushed their books and such aside and scrambled out of the room. Having not bothered with any snacks upon getting home, both their stomachs were growling and food sounded extremely desirable. Smiles never seemed to leave their faces since they’d gotten back to Jon’s and Riley and Alice shared a look when the two staggered into the dining room beaming.

All four settled in seats around the table, the rice dish filling the room with a delicious aroma that had all mouths watering. “This looks delicious, Ma!” Jon exclaimed, grinning at the woman who smiled back with only adoration in her big brown eyes.

Evan nodded, politeness coating him completely as he smiled gently at Jon’s parents. “It really does, Miss…” he trailed off, unsure whether Jon’s last name was the same as either of his moms and not wanting to make a mistake.

She just grinned at him. “Just Alice, sweetheart. No need for formalities here.”

He smiled with an equal amount of kindness, before laughing at Jon who was already stuffing his face with the meal. He let out a groan, eyes falling shut in bliss. “Mama, this is  _amazing!”_  The two women glanced at each other, mild disgust for their son’s behaviour mingling with the love of his childishness. Neither bothered to comment on it, Alice just tapping two fingers against his arm softly in acknowledgement as they also began to eat.

“So Evan,” Riley started, the punk eating quietly with perfect manners beside Jon. The red-haired woman smiled at him, eyes lacking any sort of malice or dislike. “Tell us about yourself.”

The punk swallowed, eyes on his dish as he thought. “I’m nothing special, just in a few of Jon’s classes and he needed help with his assignment so I thought I’d stop by,” he said, glancing at Jon who was watching him with a small smile.

Alice cut in before Riley could ask another question, offering him one of her own. “You seem like a bit of a punk with all the piercings and stuff, why’s that?” Her question was genuine and curious, not at all one of offense or harm. She easily ignored her wife’s glare, waiting on the young boy’s response as she ate.

He just laughed, soft and pretty. “Not exactly sure, to be completely honest; my friends and I really like piercings and we all find it funny how easily we fit the clichés.” His answer was accompanied by a shrug and Alice seemed satisfied enough with it.

“He’s too nice though,” Jon butt in, teasing grin on his face as he bumped his shoulder against the punk’s. Evan just laughed, nodding along to the words he’d heard countless times. “His friends are more intimidating, but he’s too polite.”  

Alice and Riley shared a look, smiles on their lips. “Are you going to the music festival next weekend as well, Evan?” Riley asked, not as prying as Alice was with her curiosity. Evan nodded, swallowing.

“Yes, my friends and I are all going. I’ll be keeping my eye out for Jay here, but knowing how busy it will be, it’ll be hard to find each other.”

The two women tried not to look at each other again, Riley noticing how Jon smiled into his food. She didn’t say anything, Evan’s attention remaining on the festival. She remained unsurprised when Alice found her hand, linking their fingers and squeezing tightly. Her excitement channelled into her grip on her wife, the adoration for her little boy too much for her. Riley could see how she struggled not to burst out in cries of happiness and broken sobs.

She was always the emotional one of the two.

Before the Canadian could speak up about anything else, Jon was grabbing both of their empty dishes and standing. “Thanks Ma! Thanks Mom!” Nudging the younger boy with his foot, he hurried to the kitchen, put the dishes in the sink before latching onto Evan’s arm and yanking him up towards the stairs. When they were back up in Jon’s room, he grabbed his TV remote and turned on his console. “So… Call of Duty?” he offered, turning and grinning.

Evan’s expression morphed to mimic the smile before him and made it his job to clear the bed and file all of their work away into their respective bags. Then Jon was handing him a controller and was perching himself on the edge of the bed beside him. Evan watched as the boy crossed his legs, logging into the game and setting it up for the both of them.

“How good are you?” Jon asked sceptically, glancing at Evan with distrustful eyes as the punk rolled the thumb-sticks thoughtlessly. He grinned, a shrug being his only response. The brunette took a moment to study him closely, eyes of careful judgement and uncertainty. After a few more seconds, he sat back and focused on the screen. “You better hope you are.”

The game started and Jon settled back, muted online players scattered around the map with varying levels of skill. The brunette easily navigated to the top of the leader-board, having no trouble at all with getting kills and avoiding others.

Evan didn’t do as well, but not so badly either. He wasn’t one to frequent the game, and when he did play on private sessions with his friends, he adopted the job of messing around and making things harder for the better of his friends rather than focusing on beating them.

After several minutes of focused silence, Evan shifted slightly, watching the kill-cam with indifference. He took the few seconds of break to sit further back on the bed, tucking his legs up and crossing them like Jon. He paid no mind to how his knee rested against the other boy’s, who wasn’t exactly ready for the contact as his thumb jerked and he got headshot off the ledge he was crouched on.

He didn’t bother watched his killer’s perspective, trying not to too-obviously glance at Evan’s leg against his. Choosing to save himself, he twisted and flipped his right leg to bend underneath him, putting cool air in the space instead. It took him a little bit more effort to focus on the game from then on as Evan hummed a tune Jon didn’t recognise.

By the time the round ended, Jon was getting shot far more frequently than he liked, and was pretty much hanging off the little song that the punk emitted from behind closed lips. He still finished on the top of the leader-board, unsurprisingly, and Evan made a decent score in third. The punk was completely unfazed by Jon’s attitude as the boy pushed them both into another match. Jon was glad he couldn’t see himself, probably well aware he would have had very obvious heart-eyes for the handsome teen beside him.

“So me assuming you were amazing at this game was pretty fair,” Evan mentioned, controller resting on his shins as he fell back on the comforter. Jon glanced back at him, brown eyes hidden beneath tan arms, and found himself staring at the wide smile Evan showed. His cheeks reddened, eyes falling away and returning to the loading screen.

When Evan sat back up, he met Jon’s eyes, oblivious to his blushing cheeks and silence as his smile formed a grin, teeth and all. Jon couldn’t help but smile too, hand coming up to rub at his nose in shyness of his pink cheeks.

The game loaded up and Evan’s attention was stolen away, teeth out of sight once again and Jon now finding focus  _far_  too difficult to achieve. Especially when Evan shifted again, sly grin unashamed as he threw both legs across Jon’s lap, scaring the boy half to death and confusing him beyond belief. That was, until he began routinely nudging Jon’s elbow with his toes, throwing him off his shots and veering him away from where he wanted to go.

No matter the light glares he received, the punk never glanced at him, only trying to bug him as much as possible and make it as difficult for the older boy to win the round as he could.

“Evan, I swear to God.” The muttered words lacked any real frustration and Jon didn’t miss the little smirk Evan adopted for the remainder of the game. When the score board made its home on the screen once again, and Evan had remained in third, his satisfaction in seeing Jon only one place above him was enough.

The shorter boy stared, brows furrowed in fake irritation as his glare zeroed onto Evan. The punk was holding himself up with one arm, smirk on his face with a pride not for his result, but his effect on the other boy’s result.

“What happened?” he gasped, feigning sympathy and shock as he pushed himself to sit more upright, legs still bent over Jon’s lap.

The brunette’s glare didn’t falter, arms instead coming up to fold across his chest, bottom lip sticking out in a childish pout. His head tilted up, brows raised as he looked away and refused to look back. His eyes remained on his window, the blinds half drawn, as he fought the urge pay any attention to his company.

He couldn’t help but jump when one of the feet on his leg, twisted, toes digging into the soft skin just below his ribs. His hands snapped to ankles, locking them down against his legs and away from the sensitive skin on his sides. When he looked back to Evan, the smirk had widened, a cruel idea forming in his mind, visual in his expression.

“Evan.” The punk in question bent his right leg, sitting himself up and close to Jon who watched with wary eyes. “No.”

He shuffled back slightly, hands still locked around Evan’s ankles. He’d disabled their use as a means of escape in exchange for a means of protection. His own legs were unfortunately trapped beneath him as well, no time to wriggle them out and jump away.

A squeak leapt from his lips as Evan’s hand shot forward, all five fingertips jabbing into the skin on his side. His other hand had to help out as Jon’s elbows snapped down, locking against his sides to protect the most ticklish areas of his torso. Evan’s grip was unexpectedly stronger than Jon’s will to protect himself. His left arm was pulled away and the hand grasped at his side once again, fingers curling to dig in and dance over skin above his shirt.

“Are you ticklish, Jay-Jay?” Evan cooed, grinning through his words as he regained freedom of his legs.

“Evan!” Jon’s shriek was ignored as he twisted violently, hands swatting at Evan’s amused fingers. “I swear, I will stab you.” The threat was empty and he pretty much fell off the bed as he scrambled to his feet.

His blue eyes jumped from Evan’s hovering hands to the dark eyes that watched him with amusement. Jon was feeling all too vulnerable, and his mad dash to the door was in vain as his wrist was snatched and his momentum sent him bouncing back like a ragdoll. He was pulled back onto the bed, sitting half on the edge and half balancing on his feet, unsure whether it was worth it to drop to the carpet and roll away.

Before he could react to the release of his arm, fingers were testing the waters at his waist, running up and down his sides with light enough touches to be playful and not-suffocating. The boy gasped and writhed, heals digging into the carpet ready to launch himself away from the painfully funny touches.

His escape plans were all too slow as his hands jumped up to Evan’s, grasping at the fingers and trying to push them away from behind, twisting left and right to try and jump out of reach. His mind lagged as the word “no” dropped from his lips in a slurred loop, split by giggles and cries of pain.

‘Futile’ seemed to be a fitting word.

He could barely follow as the torturous hands shifted down, locking around his hips and dragging him back so he was no longer half crouched beside the bed, and was instead flailing around in the centre of the comforter.

The true torture followed shortly after as he fell back to avoid the advancing touches from Evan who then sat beside him. His back arched off the bed as he tried weakly to roll away, panic and shock joining the exhilaration and lack of oxygen when Evan threw one leg over him, locking him in place between the punk’s knees.

Jon stared up at the boy who seemed completely unfazed by their proximity and position. There was no time for the shorter boy to speak up or wriggle away as the weight settled on his stomach and fingers danced over his sides and abdomen with more access and more damage. Jon threw himself left and right, arms clamped to his sides and head thrown back with loud, unrestrained laughter. Evan laughed softly, fond eyes hidden behind the mischievous grin.

The redness of Jon’s face was a mix of his gasping lungs and the proximity to the attractive boy. “Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!” he squeaked, voice vanishing as he heaved in big gasps of air. The tickling was relentless, pausing for barely half a second as the pastel boy lost his vision to tears. “E-he-he-hevan!” His cries were pointless, falling on deaf ears as Evan leaned low over the breathless boy.

“What was that?” he teased, grin fought back to be replaced by a pinched expression of confusion. “I can’t understand what you’re saying, Flower Boy, can you speak a little clearer?” To emphasise his cruelty, he dug his three middle fingers of each hand into the skin just below Jon’s ribs on either side, making the boy cry out, laughter pouring from his lips like gas.

With the amount of twisting and wriggling, Jon finally yanked his arms out of their hold, snatching Evan’s wrists which surrendered without struggle. They allowed themselves to be locked under strong fingers and held above Jon’s stomach, away from his waist. The boy’s chest rose and fell rapidly, cheeks flushed red and eyes wide as he stared up into Evan’s. It took both of them a second to acknowledge the mere ten centimetres distance between them.

Neither moved, neither shifted, neither spoke. Jon panted heavily, slowly regaining his breath as Evan stared. The mischief faded from the orbs of dark chocolate, until an unreadable calmness settled over them. Locked beneath the other body and unwilling to move or speak first, Jon just lay there, staring up at the boy, hold on his wrists not letting up in fear of where the hands would travel next.

His glimmering blue eyes tracked Evan’s every movement, following the way he blinked, the way his lashes fluttered slightly. How his lips remained parted just slightly. How when he closed them to swallow, his tongue peaked out between them to refresh their dryness.

Jon thoughtlessly mimicked the movement, and didn’t miss the way Evan’s chocolate eyes dropped to follow it.

As Evan dipped down lower, taking his sweet time to lessen the distance between them, Jon’s lock on his wrists weakened and neither seemed to even acknowledge it as one hand pulled away. The fingers that once tortured Jon’s side instead brushed against his cheek, settling against the warm skin. Evan’s head tilted slightly, eyes still unmoving from where they focused on Jon’s lips, half closed, intently focused. His thumb brushed over Jon’s bottom lip, touching the pink skin with a sense of intimacy Jon didn’t know how to handle.

He felt his own eyes drooping, lashes drawing lines over his vision as he tried to decide between letting them shut and living the moment through his other senses, or watching the way Evan’s expression changed, the way his eyes moved, the way his breath drifted through his lips.

He tried not to gasp as the distance lessened to unseen measurements, lips brushing over Jon’s and forcing his eyes shut. The contact disappeared, but Evan’s breath stayed for a few century-long seconds before Jon could feel him make his decision, feel him press closer, feel their lips just brush, testing new waters of depths completely unknown to either of them.

Jon waited, breath held. Before he could push up and press their lips together completely, before he could get what he’d been waiting for all day, for longer than all day, the door opened.  _Another fucking door opening_.

They both recognised the tell-tale sounds of a third party at the door: footsteps, the squeaking of the door handle. Jon’s hands found Evan’s chest and the punk jumped away, a shock running through his system and jarring him out of the moment. Jarring him enough so to have him disappearing from Jon’s senses altogether, other than a heavy  _thunk_.

The brunette sat upright, eyes wide, face bright red and heart slamming against his chest with a desperation to escape his body altogether. Alice walked in, looking back over her shoulder as she called out something neither boy heard before she turned, oblivious grin wide as she looked over the room.

Jon held her gaze for two seconds before falling to the side in defeat and burying his face in his pillows, groaning loudly.  _Their fucking lips_ touched _and they still didn’t actually kiss._  If one more person opened a fucking door while he was breathing the same air as Evan Fong, he was going to find a gun and violently remove that person from existence.


	7. freckled cheekbones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayy more texting :p

**7.**

Alice tended to be rather oblivious at times.

“Why are you on the floor, Evan?” Jon didn’t even bother lifting his face from his pillow, hoping to sink into the mattress and vanish altogether. The punk cleared his throat, swallowing a laugh and standing.

Jon rolled over, hand covering half his face and reluctantly made eye contact with Evan. The punk had to hold back a smirk, the twinkle in his eye one of amusement and reassurance. He turned to the woman who was smiling at both of them with an excitable level of fondness. “We got a bit too enthusiastic about a game and you gave us a bit of a fright when you opened the door,” he explained, the lies not _too_ far from the truth. Jon didn’t meet his eyes, hands locked over his lips in a refusal to expose the little smile he just couldn’t fight back. “I lost my balance.”

The woman nodded, easily accepting the excuse before she glanced curiously at Jon. “Your face is so red, Jonny, why don’t you open a window?” Her question was cut off and instantly forgotten as she clasped her hands together, remembering her reason for coming to the bedroom in the first place. Her kind eyes settled onto the punk again who sat back on the bed beside Jon. The smaller boy refused to let their legs touch, flustered beyond belief and needing a long few minutes to calm his beating heart. Evan remained unaware. “We were just wondering when you were planning on leaving?” she asked, not unkind as her large eyes glimmered.

Jon could already tell his mother adored the boy he’d brought home to study with. The look in her eyes was one of adoration and excitement, likely assuming the best for her little boy. Evan glanced at Jon, his smile visible in the brunette’s peripherals. He still refused to look at him, knowing his face was _glowing_.

He glanced at his phone, the time showing 6:38pm. “I’ll probably head off in a minute really, my mom will be waiting on me,” he said, a soft sigh leaving his lips. Alice nodded, grinning at the both of them and shutting the door with a short “sure thing!”

When the two were left alone, Jon’s face sunk down further, hands completely hiding his rosy cheeks and wide grin. He couldn’t help the laugh that spilt from his lips, Evan’s presence shuffling closer until static was jumping between their knees. Jon leant to the side, head coming to rest on the punk’s shoulder as he giggled. His hands remained where they were, hiding his face as he kept his eyes squeezed shut.

The two stayed like that. The room was still, and both remained the same, wishing to sink into their surroundings. Their breaths were quiet and over the long seconds they shared, Jon practically melted against Evan.

“I don’t want to go to school tomorrow.” Jon’s childish voice slipped in among silence, not quite breaking it as it continued to float in the room. His voice was tired and slightly slurred, muffled behind his hands. He didn’t see the way Evan’s lips quirked. “Wednesdays are always so long…”

Evan sighed, head falling to bump softly against Jon’s. He had no response, the calmness of the room agreeing with the smaller boy. Jon’s hands fell from his face, his cheeks and neck no longer bright red. Instead, his eyes rested shut and his lips twisted in a little smile. Both boys felt nothing but content and it was difficult for Evan to finally sit up more and lift his head.

Jon sat up also, blinking himself back awake as he sighed. Evan watched with a fondness he couldn’t suppress as the boy yawned widely, arms stretching above his head and eyes rolling shut. When his body slumped once again, arms too heavy for him to hold up any longer, he opened his eyes and just stared up at Evan who slowly stood up off the bed.

As the punk gathered his belongings and slung his backpack onto his back, Jon heaved himself up onto his feet. “I’ll walk you out, c’mon,” he said, clearing his throat to rid it of the sleepy slur it developed.

Evan smiled, simple and doting. He followed the boy out of the room, half expecting him to trip and roll down the stairs. Fortunately, both boys stayed on their feet and Evan poked his head into the living room calling out a short, “Thanks for dinner! It was nice meeting you both.” The two women responded with similar kindness in their goodbyes before Jon was holding the door open for Evan to step outside.

The day was dimming, disappearing over the far horizons. Neither boy spoke as the cool air enveloped them, Evan tugging on his sweater. There was no one else out on the street. Jon perched himself on the brick mailbox, hugging himself in his short-sleeved shirt. He watched Evan’s hands curl around the handlebars, kicking up the stand and guiding his bike out of the garage and onto the side of the road.

The punk put the second helmet into the back of the bike, clipping the compartment shut as Jon stood and shuffled across the grass to him. His bare feet were cold and his fingers sought warmth from where they clutched the sides of his shirt.

He had to suppress another yawn as Evan turned and leant back against the bike. The brown eyes seemed to assess the brunette. “Thanks for coming by.” Jon’s voice was quiet and Evan didn’t doubt the older boy was going to walk right back upstairs and crash the moment he was gone. “And thanks for helping with the History stuff, I would still be lost without you. My moms both love you as well so expect me to drag you back when I get sick of them asking about you.”

Evan’s smile ignited lazy butterflies in Jon’s tummy and his blue eyes shifted too look down the empty street. Was he supposed to kiss him now? Was Evan going to kiss him? Should he say something?

His increasing panic was silenced as soft fingertips pushed the brown locks from his face, a simple gesture but a sweet one. When Jon’s eyes lifted, shy and uncertain, he froze still as Evan ducked his head slightly and pressed his lips to his freckled cheekbone. Jon shut one eye, nose scrunching up slightly at the unexpected closeness and the index finger that ghosted his jawline fell away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Flower Boy.” Evan grinned, taking in the awestruck expression on Jon’s face before he pulled his helmet over his head and sat himself on his bike. He swung his head back to take one more look at the captivated boy before kicking the vehicle into gear and moving off away from the curb and onto the road.

Jon watched him until he was gone from the street, cheek tingling from where soft lips had pressed. The freckles on his face danced in the dusk as he trotted up the path and back through his front door.

He called out a short “goodnight” to both his moms before disappearing upstairs and falling back onto his bed with a sigh. His eyes fell shut, seeing Evan above him again, feeling the lightest of touches of lips against his, feeling the firm and deliberate press of lips against his cheekbone. He didn’t even realise he was grinning until his cheeks began aching.

When he dug his phone out of his bag he rolled his eyes at the abundance of messages and scrolled through them with snickers of laughter and eye rolls.

**-**

**_Tuesday, 19:03_ **

**“Jay” - > Twink One, Twink Two, Mini Thot, Terroriser, Suni, and Moo-Moo**

**“Jay”:** you guys need to fuck right off

 **“Jay”:** we didnt fuck omg

 **“Jay”:** idek what you guys do w your lives that you’re so interested in mine omg

 **Twink Two:** jon

 **Twink Two:** we dont have lives

 **Mini Thot:** we feed off yours because you have a cutie boytoy

 **Suni:** that’s pretty much it yeah

 **“Jay”:** get a fucking hobby?

 **Terroriser:** our hobbies are video games and stalking you and evan

 **Terroriser:** which, btw, im dubbing “jevan”

 **Mini Thot:** jevan…

 **Suni:** trhat sounds dumb

 **Terroriser:** u sound dumb?

 **Twink One:** evathon?

 **Twink Two:** no way it has to be jevan

 **Moo-Moo:** y’all are dumb

 **Terroriser:** did you just

 **Twink One:** y’all

 **Twink Two:** mom just y’alled us

 **Moo-Moo:** tf im not your mom

 **Suni:** you are tho

 **Moo-Moo:** but im??? not?????

 **Terroriser:** take one of jon’s he has two anyway

 **Twink Two:** dude alice is a fucking queen

 **Suni:** they’re both kind of perfect

 **Moo-Moo:** they’re lesbian moms what do you expect

 **Moo-Moo:** there is only ever perfection with lesbian moms

 **“Jay”:** you’re not wrong

 **“Jay”:** my moms are too good for you guys

 **“Jay”:** get ur own

 **Suni:** brock

 **Moo-Moo:** ANYWAY what did you and Evan do?

 **Twink One:** yes tell us everything

 **Twink One:** is his dick big

 **Twink Two:** is he a good kisser

 **Terroriser:** are you limping?

 **“Jay”:** we didn’t kiss???

 **“Jay”:** we did history??? And played cod????

 **Suni:** oh so romantic

 **Mini Thot:** wait so evan fong was in your bedroom and you _didn’t_ fuck

 **Mini Thot:** or even make out

 **Mini Thot:** or kiss????

 **Terroriser:** im kind of sad

 **“Jay”:** guys he’s legit probs straight

 **Suni:** that boy is bi as fuck, I swear it

 **“Jay”:** he just helped me with homework.

 **Suni:** bullshit

 **Mini Thot:** yup, definitely bs

 **“Jay”:** hypothetical question…

 **Moo-Moo:** Go on?

 **“Jay”:** if someone kisses someone else on the cheek can that be seen as platonic at all?

 **Twink Two:** JONATHON

 **Terroriser:** OHM Y GOD YOU LYING FUCK

 **Mini Thot:** you’re practically pregnant with his baby

 **Suni:** fucking hell

**“Jay” left the chat.**

**-**

“Kissing on the cheek now, hey?”

Of course, Jon didn’t expect any other greeting when he sat himself in the yellow car. His backpack made a home on his feet and they were moving before he even shut his door. The brunette’s mood had been elated since the previous day, the night giving him dreams of nothing but joy.

His blue eyes shone, renewed and energised and he recognised the envious look Brock wore as he sipped a coffee. Unlike the driver, Jon didn’t need caffeine to wake him each day.

“It wasn’t anything ground-breaking, you guys just love to overreact.” The comment wasn’t untrue although there wasn’t much that could remove the memory of being pinned beneath Evan on his bed from his mind. The moment had been painted into his nerves and he shook off the chill of excitement that ran down his arms.

Brock shot him a look, returning his eyes to the road knowing just as well as Jon did that he was not trustworthy enough to drive without watching attentively what was going on. “Come on, Jon, I can _see_ that you’re hiding something. You get this excited face on and you bite your lip like you have to stop yourself from blurting it out and in the end you blurt it out anyway so…” He trailed off, assumptions leading Jon to laugh because, of course Brock knew him perfectly and he was one hundred percent correct.

The brunette could only shrug. He didn’t want to rant about what happened instantly, especially not in the car seeing as Brock would likely drive into the back of another car, or a brick wall.

“Come on, Jonny,” the driver whined. “Did you really not kiss?”

“Eyes on the road, you idiot,” Jon said before Brock could look at him and attempt puppy eyes in the middle of the road. “And no, we didn’t _really_ kiss.”

They pulled into the school carpark and Brock twisted in his seat. “Elaborate?”

Jon grinned, opening the door and stepping out of the car like nothing happened.

“You have to tell me! We’re best friends! Six years; that means you have to tell me what you do with cute guys!” Brock spoke loudly over the top of his car as Jon shut the door and slung his backpack onto his back. His yellow hoodie hung off his frame, comfortable and warm. He smiled slyly at his friend but remained voiceless. “Pleeeaase?”

Puppy dog eyes. Jon sighed, defeated, but couldn’t lose his grin. “We _almost_ kissed.”

Brock gawked after him, watching as he pranced towards school and left without him as though that was enough of an answer. It most definitely _was not_. “Jon! I swear to God, if you don’t give me every minute detail, I will get Suni to kick your ass!”

The older boy laughed. “It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it!” He ignored Brock’s wingeing as he caught up to him, walking quickly and refusing to look back at him. Teasing was just too much fun, and his friends were the most satisfying victims.

Brock whinged and whined all the way to Jon’s locker where he dumped all his unnecessary belongings. All he really did need was his History task and music theory work, and he could gather any other work for the rest of the day during breaks.

“You gotta clarify what ‘almost kiss’ means, because that’s a very vague explanation,” the boy chattered enthusiastically, tugging at Jon’s arm as he unlocked his locker. The blue-eyed boy shot the other a quick smirk before opening his locker door in his face and going about rearranging his stuff. When he shut it, Brock continued as though never interrupted. “Was it like a ‘we-just-looked-at-each-other-funny almost kiss’ or an ‘I-think-I’m-pregnant almost kiss’?”

“Are we talking about Evan and Jon’s child due in twelve months?” Scotty appeared beside the two out of nowhere, eyebrows wiggling with some amount of difficulty. Brock glanced at him, checking to see if he was actually serious, before his face morphed into one of pain and pity.

“Scott.” He tried to keep the strain out of his voice. “You do realise women aren’t pregnant for twelve whole months, right?”

Jon grinned. “Yeah, dumbass, they’re pregnant for seven.”

“Really!?” Scott’s brows rose, lips parting in disbelief. “That’s so short though, babies…” He trailed off, too in thought to form words. Brock just stared at him, disappointment and incredulity coating his facial expression and body language. Jon just cackled, walking off with a bounce in his step as Scotty turned to Brock, frowning in distrust. “I said something dumb, didn’t I… How long are women pregnant for?”

Brock closed his eyes for a moment, attempting to collect himself before he rested a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Nine months, Scott.” He didn’t know how the boy was even seventeen. “Let’s go. We have English.”

 Jon arrived at History after the bell went and when half the class was already settled and pulling out their work. He made eye contact with Evan the second he walked in the room and a smile was blooming across his face before he had the thought to stop it. He pointedly ignored the two Anthonys grinning at him, struggling to do so when they began dramatically pretending to make out with each other. The Italian fell out of his chair after trying to almost _mount_ his friend who was busy biting his arm to stop himself from laughing aloud. Mario-Anthony just grinned and retook his seat with satisfaction when Jon’s face began to heat up slightly.

The punk didn’t notice, or at least didn’t say anything, as the older boy took the seat beside him. “Morning, Jay-Jay. Ready to actually know what you’re reading in class now?”

 _Why was he so cute!?_ Jon pulled out his task, smiling and trying to relax in his seat. It was difficult when two Cheshire cats were sitting right behind him. He managed a small laugh, cursing himself at how it came out like a giggle. “Yep. I should be alright for now.”

Evan nodded, his elbow nudging Jon’s affectionately. “If you ever need more help, I’m happy to drop by again,” he joked, voice way too soft and friendly to be real. Jon ran his hand through his hair probably too frequently to stop himself from just reaching out and touching the boy beside him. He was too surreal for the brunette to handle. “I don’t know how long I can last without another meal cooked by Alice.”

Jon risked making eye contact, feeling his ribs shatter under the abuse of his pounding heart. “You’re welcome anytime. My parents adore you.” Chickening out, he dropped his attention to his paper again, playing with the corner between his fingers. “And knowing me, I’ll be needing help with something sometime soon.”

“I’m happy to help out with whatever work you need. Anything Maths or Science especially I can help with.” The offer was nonchalant and vague but Jon couldn’t help getting a bit excited that he’d made a suggestion to spend more time together, no matter how indirect it was.

Jon just smiled. He pretended not to hear the snickering from behind him as he responded with a small: “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” After looking over the task sheet for a few slightly confused seconds, he turned back to the Canadian. “Now give me an easy task I can do for this that won’t take too much intellectual work.”

The punk let out a laugh, shifting his chair closer to the desk. Whether he meant to also shift it closer to Jon or not, the shorter boy did know. Either way, he couldn’t help having a mental freak out when Evan was practically leaning against him as he pointed out questions on his page and pushed his laptop so it was directly between them.

He had to say he was proud of himself for managing to pay attention at all to what the boy was saying with how distracted his thoughts were. He was glad his task was rather simple and tedious rather than thought-requiring as when Evan didn’t bother to shift away, his brain didn’t bother to focus on anything else.

-

**_Wednesday, 10:21_ **

**“Jay” - > Moo-Moo, Suni, Mini Thot, Terroriser, Twink One, and Twink Two**

**“Jay”:** i have a problem

 **Terroriser:** is it bi

 **Terroriser:** does it start with e

 **Terroriser:** and end in van

 **Terroriser:** because we’ve known about this for a while now “Jay”

 **“Jay”:** how do i

 **“Jay”:** pretty boy????

 **Suni:** sex

 **“Jay”:** o-o

 **Suni:** suck his dick

 **“Jay”:** o.o

 **Suni:** :)

 **“Jay”:** i dont know why i ever thought i’d get advice from any of you

 **Terroriser:** suck his dick

 **Suni:** give him the good succ

 **“Jay”:** i hate you both

**“Jay” left the chat**

-

Music was boring and uneventful. The teacher talked on and on about classical music and other styles Jon mindlessly wrote notes about. Anything that was said stayed in his mind for ten seconds (long enough to be written down) before it dissolved into nothing. He tried not to think about Evan continuously for an entire hour and was fairly disappointed that literally every thought he tried to force into his brain about anything else in his life found a way back to his crush.

Brian liked to believe he could read the other’s mind as throughout the whole hour he routinely asked if he was still thinking about the punk. That was, until, the boy snapped and told his Irish friend that, frankly, Evan never left his goddamn thoughts and no matter when he asked, he’d probably get the same answer. Shockingly, that fact only made the irritating boy snicker and continue to ask him what he was thinking about.

He got not-so-discreetly hit over the head with a music notebook when he began “thinking out loud” about how a tongue piercing would feel during a blow job. After getting snapped at by the teacher, Jon had to sit back and suffer through Brian telling him it was a totally _unrelated_ and _hypothetical_ theory he was merely curious about.

When they got out of class he got more than one hit over the head with a book heavier than his notebook as Brian laughed hysterically about Jon’s flushed face and neck. The brunette at least had a reasonable excuse about how his thoughts for the rest of the day weren’t the most innocent and respectable and he did have to go splash his face during Science when Brock and Craig kept questioning him on why he was acting so distracted and what on Earth he was thinking about.

His guilty thoughts were thankfully pushed back when he actually remembered his fifth period class. It had felt like a week since the previous sport lesson the day before, but the memories were heavy and clear in his head as he hovered by the entrance of the gym by himself, very watchful of the shameless staring of his peers.

His solution was staring at the lines that danced across the two basketball courts of the building, seeing no sign of the punks and knowing even if he did it wasn’t his place to join them. They probably thought of him as nothing more than a nuisance which was fair.

“Hey. Jonathon, right?” Speaking of which. Jon looked up in surprise. Marcel stood in front of him, hands tucked into pockets. The dark-skinned boy watched him curiously and Jon didn’t miss the flicker of sympathy that crossed his face. “Sorry, don’t mean to bother you. The guys are all still in the change rooms. You alright? You look kinda distracted.”

Jon was shocked enough that the punk was even talking to him and rushed to think of something to respond with rather than just awkwardly staring at his peer. “Oh, uh, yeah sorry. I’m fine, thanks, just got a lot on my mind.”

The taller boy nodded, seeming to understand pretty simply and looked away as the rest of his little group filed into the gym. Jon noticed the ease they all walked with as they approached. They each glanced at Jon before Marcel, unfazed by his company. It seemed to be they already accepted him being there and no one had an issue with it.

When John glanced at him, his gaze was still one of caution and in all honesty, Jonathon wasn’t surprised.

Fortunately though, the hour passed of a few simple rotations between the two courts. The games of basketball were far less tense and competitive, the population of the room seeming to all be thinking the same thing.

There was an obvious avoidance of the punks and Jon, all six of them earning careful side glances. It was also obvious that the teachers had their eyes on the group of students too.

Jon stuck with himself for the lesson, drifting alongside the five punks. He was thankful for their inclusiveness, not questioning his presence in their team. Though there was limited conversation, the boys seemed to remain as a close group and it was unsurprising that Evan hovered by Jon for a lot of the time too. He didn’t doubt, had anything happened, the Canadian would have stepped in front of him in a second.


	8. y'all ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's gay  
> you should expect that by now  
> enjoy yourself
> 
> \+ 
> 
> added a few extra ships and tags. let me know if you guys have questions about anything, i dont want to put anyone in a bad place. i will put warnings before triggering chapters though, don't worry.  
> thanks! gi

**8.**

Rehearsal was split up into sections for both Wednesday and Thursday evenings, one and a half hours of learning two new pieces and practicing them with the rest of the string section. At home Jon was lovingly harassed by both Riley and Alice about the boy he’d bought home. Riley was suspicious about what they’d done together and what Evan was like at school whereas Alice couldn’t stop cooing about how handsome he was and “is he your boyfriend yet?”

He didn’t mind, laughing and answering his parents’ questions. There wasn’t anything to hide and he knew if anything were to happen he would tell them in an instant. They would never really get angry at him unless he hurt someone or did something totally irresponsible and that keeping secrets and lying would only lead to distrust and arguing down the line.

The last few days of the week drifted by swiftly. Compared to Tuesday in which he watched a kid get beaten up, had detention with Evan, almost kissed Evan twice and took Evan home with him; the remainder of the week were relaxed and easy. Jon did his work, spoke to Evan here and there about nothing in particular and ignored his friends’ constant teasing.

Rehearsal just consisted of private learning and practice, and lunch and recess had Jon’s friends at his throat for explanations. When he did admit to what had happened at his home it was a very brief explanation on the group-chat that had Suni screaming, Lucas and Brock freaking out, Brian in tears and Mini “a proud father” as he’d claimed. Jon just told them to stop being dramatic and to try to refrain from ruining his life with public humiliation.

Friday was just as ordinary, a buzz running between Jon and his friends; excitement for the festival on Sunday. It was going to be fun, they all knew it, and they were trying their best to fast forward time to get there as soon as they could.

History had Jon ranting with excitement about the bands they were going to hear and how he was going to have the best day of his life. Evan watched and listened with a fond smile, neither caring much for their project. “I’ll keep my eye out for you, and you do the same, okay?” He had, of course, nodded excitedly at Evan’s playful words but didn’t mention the brewing warmth in his lungs at the way they were spoken like a promise.

If he did run into Evan he knew his day would only get better and the idea had him smiling and happy throughout the rest of his classes. When Brock drove him home he told him he’d be at his house at ten o’clock the next morning to go shopping and get everything they needed for their day out on Sunday. He had dinner with his moms and told them both the plans for the weekend. Turned out none of his friends trusted Brock to take them and Riley gladly offered for her and her wife to drive all seven of them up there with their stuff in two cars.

As insulted as he was, Brock agreed. They spent the evening discussing plans and setting everything in stone as to avoid rushed bad plans on Sunday morning.

-

**_Friday, 20:34_ **

**Twink One - > “Jay”, Twink Two, Mini Thot, Suni, Moo-Moo, and Terroriser**

**Twink One:** so evan and jon are gonna hook up right

 **“Jay”:** oh god

 **Twink Two:** oh hell yeah you know it baby

 **Terroriser:** they gon do more than just hook up

 **Terroriser:** good thing we’re getting picked up in two cars so there’ll be space for an extra

 **Suni:** you know maybe they can actually fuck in peace

 **Suni:** without interuptions

 **Suni:** brian…

 **Terroriser:** heY Id idnt know!

 **Twink One:** learn how to spell fuckboy

 **“Jay”:** im probs not even going to be able to find him

 **“Jay”:** don’t wanna get my hopes up, im just gon enjoy the music

 **Moo-Moo:** We all know you’re going to spend every second looking around to see if you can spot that leather jacket. You can’t lie to us, Jonathon

 **“Jay”:** …

 **Terroriser:** brocky is always right

 **Suni:** you would think so wouldnt you brian ;)

 **Moo-Moo:** he’s not wrong

 **Terroriser:**??? whats that supposed to mean

 **Suni:** idk ;) what ;) does ;) it ;) mean ;)

 **Terroriser:**?????????????????????????

 **Mini Thot:** babe you have to give him time

 **Mini Thot:** it took him long enough to come to terms with being bi as fUCk

 **Mini Thot:** he’s a tad slow

 **Terroriser:**  do you want to fucking fight craig

 **Terroriser:** I will pummel your dumb meme ass

 **Mini Thot:** dont you touch my meme ass

 **Twink Two:** dont you touch his meme ass

 **Suni:** oh my god

 **Twink One:** y’all need to stop

 **Twink Two:** y’all ;)

 **“Jay”:** y’all ;)

 **Suni:** y’all ;)

 **Terroriser:** y’all ;)

 **Mini Thot:** y’all ;)

 **Twink One:** fucking rude

 **Moo-Moo:** …y’all

 **Twink One:** broCK WHY

 **Twink One:** I expected it from everyone but not yoU

 **Moo-Moo:** I’m sorry, scotty

 **Terroriser:** he’s really not

 **“Jay”:** yeah no he doesn’t mean that at all

 **Suni:** brian would know

 **Terroriser:** what are you on about omfg

 **Suni:** ;)

 **Mini Thot:** babe

 **Suni:** square uP craig

 **Mini Thot:** WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DO THIS

 **Suni:** <3

 **Suni:** so do we put a tracker on evan so we can find him or do we just bring walkie talkies and hunt him down collectively so we can push jon into him and they can fuck

 **Moo-Moo:** let’s not do anything illegal???

 **Suni:** …fine

 **“Jay”:** lets not publically humiliate me???

 **Suni:** come on jon we want reasonable suggestions to this plan

 **“Jay”:** can you divorce friends

 **Terroriser:** i say we just wait and see

 **Moo-Moo:** we all know evan is gonna be looking for him anyway

 **Moo-Moo:** they’re _drawn_ to each other ;)

 **Twink One:** did brock just wink

 **Twink Two:** sounds unrealistic

 **Mini Thot:** wait so who is going shopping tomorrow

 **Moo-Moo:** jon and i are

 **“Jay”:** yep

 **Twink Two:** yeet sign me the fUCk up

 **Moo-Moo:** why always so aggressive…

 **Terroriser:** I’ll come

 **Mini Thot:** i can too

 **Twink One:** I cant:(

 **Suni:** neither ;(

 **Moo-Moo:** want us to grab you anything?

 **Suni:** nah, im good

 **Twink One:** thanks but im aight

 **Suni:** aight

 **Terroriser:** aight

 **Mini Thot:** aight

 **Twink One:** SHUT THE FUCK UP

 **Suni:** :D

 **Twink One:** you guys are the fucking worst

 **Terroriser:** aw so sweet

 **“Jay”:** im gonna go to bed

 **“Jay”:** see you lot tomorrow

 **Moo-Moo:** night Jonny!

 **Suni:** niiight <3

 **Twink Two:** <3

**“Jay” left the chat.**

-

Jon groaned loudly at the burst of sound beside his head. Sunlight tickled at his eyelids, nagging and cruel no matter how tightly he clamped them shut. The loud music was irritatingly familiar and it didn’t stop no matter how hard he willed it to in his mind.

“I want to watch you burn to death.” His snarl was far less menacing and savage beneath the slur of his words and Brock’s cheerful laughter echoed through the speaker of the phone. He groaned loudly, eyes still glued stubbornly shut.

“It’s nine, how are you still asleep?” Brock’s voice was one Jon definitely loved, there was no doubt about that. But when it was waking him up in the morning, there was a certain hatred he usually didn’t feel that swelled in his heart.

He blindly pressed at his phone screen until his friend’s breathing and shuffling magnified in volume. The phone lay on the pillow beside his face and he allowed his body to go dead. “I have another fifty minutes before I need to wake up, what do you want?” he groaned, burying his face in his pillow.

“Jon! Wake up, honey!” Riley’s call from out in the hall was accompanied with a knock on the door and the brunette groaned loud enough for her to also hear.

Brock’s laugh crackled through the speaker again. “I’ll be at yours in an hour. Get up, lazy.” The last thing the other heard was Jon’s protesting groan before the call ended and Jon was left with irritating sunlight and the nagging sensibility in his thoughts telling him to get out of bed.

By the time he managed to stumble out of his bed, tripping and falling against his desk when his sheets caught around his ankles, it was 9:30. It took him a moment to collect himself and he carded  his fingers through his hair as he blinked himself awake. He almost fell twice when getting down the carpeted stairs and collapsed against the kitchen table the moment he sat himself on a stool.

Alice cooed. “Still tired?”

He groaned, his main method of communication for the morning as his other parent laughed, across the bench from him sipping from a mug. “It’s late, I thought you’d be up and dancing by now?” Her laugh was gentle and Jon breathed in deeply, allowing the voices and presence of his moms as well as the smell of caffeine and honey to envelop him. “Aren’t you going out?”

Both women laughed again at his affirmative grunt and Alice slid a steaming mug in front of him. “Have some coffee if you’re so tired.”

With far more effort than it should have taken, he pushed himself upright. Riley rolled her eyes affectionately when he had to grip the counter to stop himself from falling straight back, and nodded slowly when he mimicked her actions with a mug of his own. No words joined their breathing as the three drank in the morning.

Alice moved back and forth along the bench with a bowl of cake mix held to her chest by one arm, her other arm mixing and adding ingredients as well as paying close attention to the eggs she was scrambling on the stove. The bowl came to rest on the bench and she fetched plates and utensils, setting three platers of eggs and toast on the bench in front of her wife, her son and a spare seat for herself. She sat down and practically inhaled her food before returning to her cake. Jon watched both women with heavy eyes, eating slowly and routinely sipping the drink that had buzzing warmth pooling in his stomach.

Riley ate her meal to the left of her notebook and her laptop. Her eyes glimmered behind glasses, weighted down with dark bags her coffee was eating away at. She barely paid attention to the food she brought to her lips, her body knowing too well how to work on perfect autopilot after years of multitasking.

It always fascinated the boy that she could shift her focus between each hand, her right holding a pen and her left holding her fork. The bright blue eyes jumped back and forth between the screen and the page she wrote on, rarely straying to check the food she was feeding herself or to find the handle of her mug that she’d put down a bit too far to the left.

She was incredible at multitasking and being ambidextrous helped her a lot.

By the time his plate was empty and his cup had been drained, Jon was rolling his shoulders and smiling with wide eyes. The day ahead of them was one to be filled with fun and jokes and seeing how long it took for the mall security to throw their group out.

When he’d put his dishes away and lay a kiss to both his moms’ cheeks, he bounded back up the stairs and tugged on some plain shorts and a white and blue jacket. His ran his fingers through his hair several times to organise it relatively neatly before he shoved his wallet in his pocket and found his phone.

**-**

**_Saturday, 9:58_ **

**Moo-Moo - > “Jay”**

**Moo-Moo:** Yo, I’m outside. Are you awake?

 **“Jay”:** yup coming down now

-

Before he even got to the bottom of the staircase he knew his friend was already at the door.

“Alice! How have you been? Did you get a haircut? It suits you so well!” The boy was a sucker for Jon’s moms, having known them for years, he loved them to death as they did him. Alice smothered the boy in a hug, cries of “it’s been so long!” and “you’re growing too fast!” and “do you know anything about that Evan boy?”. Brock laughed, spotting Jon with a grin. “Oh, I know all about Evan.” The remark had Riley appearing in the hall and Brock threw his head back with a laugh as Alice began blabbering with excitement.

Jon swooped in before anything could be said, hands on Brock’s shoulders pushing him out of Alice’s grasp and back out the front door. “Well! We better be off now, bye Mum, bye Mama!” Alice pouted, de-aging about twenty years as Jon pecked her on the temple and shut the door. “You’re a prick,” he remarked as he ushered Brock away from his house. “You can’t corrupt them or they’re going to hassle me for information every five seconds.”

The other just grinned, knowing very well he was only making Jon’s situation worse. “I was just saying hi to Alice and Riley, don’t overreact, Jon-Jon.” The two go into the car and started it up. Jon checked his phone and sighed at the thirty-two messages from the group-chat. Brock glanced at him and huffed. “Don’t bother, they were arguing whether vertical blinds or horizontal blinds give the nicest lighting.”

Jon just smiled, opening the chat and closing it. He did not care to read through the nonsense and none of them had messaged in the past fifteen minutes, meaning their conversation was likely over. “Who won?”

Brock chuckled, driving smoothly and sipping the coffee he always had in his car each morning. “Lucas and Suni, for horizontal blinds. I don’t think Craig or Brian will be able to look either of them in the eye again after that roast but it was kind of expected.”

“Common knowledge: don’t challenge Suni and if she’s with Lucas, _never_ challenge Suni.” The two nodded, an easily agreeable fact. There wasn’t any doubt in it; both of them had witnessed the massacre Suni left behind when someone even joked about fighting her. She was unstoppable and no matter what, there was always a slight fear among all the boys for their female friend.

They pulled into the parking lot, grabbing their stuff and making their way to the main entrance with mild conversation jumping between them. Chatting about school and the festival and music they’d been hyping themselves up for. The shops weren’t crazy-busy which was both shocking and a miracle they were grateful for as they made their way to the food court. There they were planning to meet Craig and Lucas. Brian was going to get there in another hour and it was only the five of them for the day.

Brock was getting more and more excited and when they sighted Lucas with his earphones in, they could both tell he was buzzing just as much. “Hey guys!” he chirped the moment they were close and almost broke his earphones when he yanked them from his ears.

He opened his mouth to ask about Craig but the brit appeared beside them out of nowhere and answered the question before it was even asked. Brock grinned. “We have about seven shops to ravage in four hours. Let’s go boys.” Lucas nodded eagerly, Craig and Jon grinning at each other.

The first hour was spent scanning out the best of the shops, not really wanting to go through anything without Brian knowing he’d drag their asses straight back to any shop they’d already gone through. Their conversations flickered back and forth, laughter and teasing, Craig crying about his girlfriend crushing him and Lucas just grinning smugly. “Life hack: always agree with Suni.” Craig pouted until Brian arrived only to have the Irishman cry and whine about exactly the same thing. “Shut up and let’s get cute clothes.” Lucas’ words brought them back to what they were there for and they started drifting through shop after shop.

Craig grabbed at Jon’s hand after they’d been in a relatively expensive store for a few minutes. “Can we go across to the shoe shop? I gotta get some for tomorrow.” Lucas trotted up to him, nodding eagerly. He had more shoes than Suni and they all knew so.

“I’ll wait for Brocky, he’s trying something on. We’ll meet you there in a few,” Brian offered, looking over a jacket as the three thought for a second. Various “thanks” were thrown at him before the trio hurried across the hall and Brian drifted to the changing rooms. “Hey Brock? You done?” He knocked a knuckle lightly against the locked door and it pulled away from his touch to reveal Brock in snug jacket and skinny jeans.

Brian’s eyes widened as he looked over Brock’s pinched expression, the older boy scanning himself in the mirror as he twisted on his toes and pulled at the jacket. “I’m not sure about this, do you think it’s worth buying?”

The Irish boy couldn’t find words as his mouth dried, licking his lips uselessly as he devoured the way the jeans hugged his thighs. When he spun on the spot, Brian was surprised he didn’t pass out then and there and as the soft eyes raised, curious and patient, he had to clench his fists behind his back. The other seemed too invested in checking himself out, uncertainty written all over his features in a way that made Brian mad at himself.

He didn’t like Brock. No, he did like Brock, of course, just not like that. There was no way. He didn’t have a crush on him, Brian didn’t get crushes. They were silly and pointless. But he couldn’t deny that realising he was actually bisexual and attracted to dudes as well did have a few things to do with Brock.

Not a crush. He was just attractive and just because he danced around Brian’s mind all day and night, and just because he looked really hot in those clothes and his face was so cute… It didn’t mean he had a crush on him.

“Bri?”

He swallowed, flexing his fingers out and managing a wobbly smile. The physical strength it took to haul his eyes back up to Brock’s confused face was exhausting. “Y-yeah, um, I, er… Yeah, I like it! I mean, it look’s good. You look good. It makes you look good. Really good. If ye, um, ye like it you should definitely… you should definitely buy it. Yeah it looks- ye look really good.” Brian’s face steadily reddened as words fell from his lips in a jumbled disarray of unorganised thoughts. His accent blossomed across his tongue as he panicked, flush crawling up his neck to tint his ears red. His whole body froze, the confused and shocked expression Brock wore morphing into something softer, something with a kind smile and dusty pink cheeks. “I’m… I’ll be outside. In the shop outside. This shop. Um, shout if you need me!”

He scrambled from the changing rooms which were suddenly far too crowded and stuffy and out in the main shop he buried himself in the furthest back corner, his red face to the shirts. Helplessly though, he remained within three metres from the doorway to the changing rooms in case Brock actually called out to him.

Fumbling for his phone he quickly typed out: **‘i gotta tell u something later + i need advice but u gotta promise not to make fun of me** ’. Sending the message through to Suni, he placed his hand flat against his chest and took a deep breath in, blowing it out slowly as to try and calm his racing heart and reduce the bright redness of his cheeks.

“Bri?” He almost cursed aloud, closing his eyes briefly. Deep breath in, deep breath out. He dragged himself back into the changing room, knuckle knocking against the thin door again. It swung back open seconds later and Brian took a step back as Brock peeked out at him. “What do you think of this?”

Brian’s lips parted, any moisture in his mouth disappearing altogether as he blinked with wide eyes. The door swung completely open and Brock studied Brian’s alarmed face while he gawked at him. Instead of the fine, classy outfit he’d just tried on, Brock was wearing a loose cropped shirt that hung off one shoulder and cut just above his bellybutton. He wore shorts that showed way too much of his thighs which were pale and looked far too smooth to be real. Brian was blown back by the overwhelming idea of what it would be like to put his hands on them or to have them locked around his hips or to lay kisses up them. He bit the inside of his bottom lip, wanting to press his mouth to every bit of exposed skin Brock wore. His neck and shoulders and collarbones, his hips and tummy, smooth back, pretty thighs.

“Please buy that.” Brian swallowed, voice hoarse as his eyes flicked over Brock’s figure. The other boy just smiled, curiosity satisfied as he lifted a hand in his direction. The Irish boy stepped forward, eyes dark with caution but swelling with attraction. He had to consistently remind himself they were in the shopping centre, in the changing rooms, he could not just shove Brock against a wall and put his hands and lips everywhere he wanted.

He swallowed, hesitating, and took Brock’s hand. The shorter boy stepped up, linking their fingers and running his fingertips down the other’s jawline. He leant up and Brian felt his pants tighten at their closeness. “I’ll buy it if you help me take it off in your bed.”

Yup, Brian’s pants were suddenly incredibly tight.

Brock brushed his lips against his cheekbone before pushing him a few steps back, out of the stall and locking the door. The other three were very confused and curious to why Brian’s face was so red but neither Brian or Brock said anything about it and they eventually gave up to Lucas’ excited raving about the shoes he’d just bought.

**_Saturday, 11:56_ **

**Terroriser - > Suni**

**Terroriser:** yeah im gonna need help + new lungs


	9. your cute friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! just letting you know i opened fic requests on my tumblr! feel free to shoot me an ask with a request before the 15th of December and i'll be posting any and all fics i do here as well!
> 
> chinxino5.tumblr.com  
> chinxino5.tumblr.com/post/168324172648/requests-open-xmas

**9.**

Lucas loved shopping. It was supposedly stereotypical of a queer kid but all his friends knew he wasn’t one to pay mind to stereotypes. None of them knew or loved fashion like he did and they ended up trailing him throughout the shopping centre.

Jon noticed the bounce in Brock’s step as the two walked together. The little smile on his lips was one of thought and satisfaction and the pastel boy was both curious and suspicious. After Brian and he had met back up with them both had been acting odd. Brian had been unusually quiet, walking with his eyes on the ground. His cheeks were dusted pink and even as half an hour passed, the colour didn’t fade.

“What happened?” Jon asked when he stepped up beside the Irish boy to study the row of beanies and hats. At the wide-eyed look, Jon shrugged. “You’ve been blushing since you and Brock were alone. I wanna know what happened?”

Brian didn’t seem to know what to say or how to answer the question and a grin spread across Jon’s face as pink turned to bright red. A string of fast-paced gibberish in a strong Irish accent spilled from the others lips before he pursed them, turned and strode away to another area of the store.

Jon’s laughter followed him, amused and satisfied. Lucas announced he was trying something on and the other four looked through racks of clothing while they waited. They spread out and pulled at shirts and jeans, looking through patterns and seeing if there was anything worth their money. Jon made his slow way over to Brock.

“So what did you do to Brian?” he asked, voice soft and aware of said boy across the store. The back of his neck was still red hot and Brock bit his lip to hide his smile as he glanced back over his shoulder. He met Jon’s blue eyes and shrugged, smile wide but soundless. “Come on,” he whined. “What happened?”

Brock laughed to himself, pulling a coat hanger off the stand and examining the pattern of the pink shirt. “It’s nothing; he just got flustered and I teased him a little bit.”

“I don’t think just teasing someone makes them _that_ red, Brock.”

He had to put his fingers to his lips to stop himself from giggling before he turned and continued down the side of the store, Jon trailing close behind. “Okay so maybe I put on something special and he obviously liked how it looked… on me… and I maybe saidhecouldundressmeinhisbed?”

Jon stopped in his tracks, gawking at Brock who turned around with a guilty smile. “You _what!?”_ he shrieked, snapping his hand over his mouth and ducking down behind a circular stand to hide from the curious eyes of the other shop-goers.

Brock laughed, turning and walking away as Jon stared at his back. Brock wasn’t known to be like that; he was dubbed the ‘mom’ of their group and usually the sweet and kind one, not the I-can-make-you-horny-just-by-speaking one. He seemed satisfied with Jon’s reaction all the same and the brunette couldn’t help but shake his head in awe. It was unexpected, and shocking, and slightly scarring at the imagery, but impressive.

Before he had the chance to stand and follow his friend, questions already building up in his lungs, Lucas was out of the changing rooms and marching from the shop with a grin on his face. Jon just sighed, eyes wide and brows still furrowed slightly in thought. He’d have to bother Brian about it later when the Irish boy could actually articulate his thoughts.

Lucas was beyond happy. He was in his element in the shopping centre, jumping between all the best shops with money in his back pocket and a grin on his face. He bought things here and there and tried on six times the amount of clothing he paid for. His friends moved out of his way and followed with understanding that if anyone knew where to go, it was him.

Stepping out of their last shop, he ran straight into another body and bounced back. His arms flailed violently, successfully smacking Craig across the face before he fell to his butt with a cry. When the world stopped spinning and he was able to look up at his attacker, he instantly felt his face heat up. John stood, fingers on his cheekbone as he blinked down at Lucas. He took a second to realise what had happened and that the two had collided before a small smile formed on his face and he was stepping forward with an outstretched hand.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Wasn’t watching where I was walkin’ there.” John’s voice was smooth and his hand was big. He easily pulled Lucas back onto his feet but the boy’s mouth remained totally wordless, unable to form any sort of intelligent thought to respond. He didn’t seem to need to as John studied his face for a second. “Hey, you’re the cute kid that sits with Jonathon, right?”

Lucas’ already-red face set itself on fire, the tips of his ears burning and bright red. His mouth opened, some intention of responding with “yes, I’m Jon’s friend” or “you think I’m cute?” but couldn’t get half of anything out before someone was at his side.

“Shit Lucas, you alright?” Jon’s gentle expression reflected his concern for his friend only to morph into one of surprise when he looked up. “Oh hey John, did you guys run into each other?”

The punk grinned, flicking his attention between the two of them. His fingers dropped from his face and he tucked both hands into the pockets of his ripped jeans. Lucas had to forcefully pull his eyes away instead of following the punk’s movements. His pants fit him with a perfect dose of flattery and Lucas resorted to staring at the chest of his hoodie. It seemed the safest, seeing as any lower only encouraged his cruel imagination and any higher would be too stressful. .

“Yeah, my bad.” John nodded, curious eyes lingering on Lucas. The smaller boy glanced up only to make direct eye contact and drop his gaze to his feet. His whole body was burning up with him inside and he felt ready to pass out from heatstroke. John only smiled at the younger boy. “Your cute friend came around the corner pretty quick.”

‘Your cute friend’. Lucas stared at his feet with wide eyes, lips pursed shut and heart pumping. He knew trying to formulate any sort of response would only end in further humiliation and by the giggling of his close friend, his distress and fluster was likely extremely obvious.

“Well I’ll leave you guys to your shopping. Might see you at the festival?” John inquired, ever-smooth and completely unbothered. His question was obviously not directed at Jonathon by the brunette’s silence and Lucas shyly raised his attention to acknowledge the pretty pale eyes watching him. The little smile had any possible verbal response caught in his throat and his nibbled on his lip, nodding hastily. John’s smile broke out into a grin, the twinkle in his eye stabbing Lucas through the chest. “Look out for me then…” he trailed off, raising his brows in patience.

It took the boy a few seconds to choke out his response, his friends standing a few metres back trying to hide their grins of delight. “L-Lucas.” His voice cracked and he pretty much passed out then and there at the little laugh John breathed.

“Lucas.” The punk tested the name on his tongue, almost _tasting_ it right in front of the boy who could now not tear his eyes from his crush’s face at all. “Cute name, cute guy. See you tomorrow, Lucas.” The compliments rolled off his tongue without any sort of hesitation and Lucas managed an incredibly weak smile with a shaky nod before the other walked past him, arms brushing against one another.

He counted to five in his head and released the breath he’d been holding since the moment John started speaking. He put his hands on his knees to stop himself from collapsing and heaved in a few deep breaths as Jon and Craig appeared either side of him.

None of them spoke as they shuffled out of the way of the entrance of the store, giving their friend a moment to get his lungs working and heart beating again. “Does anyone have an asthma puffer?” he wheezed, face still as hot as ever.

Brock frowned in concern. “Do you have asthma?”

“I do now, fuck’s sake- what just happened?”

The older boy voicelessly relaxed, relieved his friend wasn’t about to die because of a breathing problem and that he was just overwhelmed. He rubbed his back soothingly, Jon affectionately petting his head and brushing the long curls from his face.

“Come on; let’s go for a food break. Lucas needs a drink and we all should have lunch before we get shopping again,” Brian said, the other members of their party all nodding. Craig and Brock linked arms with their partially dead friend and the group set off back towards the food court.

Lucas couldn’t stop gawking at the ground. “He’s just… Did he call me cute or did I dream that? I feel like half the things that just happened didn’t actually happen and I hallucinated… Did I hallucinate? Did I just run into John or not? Did he really call me cute and then tell me to watch out for him tomorrow?” he rambled, gasping in deep breaths of air between each question. He paused, almost tripping as a look of wander crossed his face. “Do you think that means he wants to, like, hang out? Tomorrow? Like he’d spend time with me at the festival? Oh my god. No, I won’t be able to look at him! Who am I kidding, I’m going to just pass out. That is if I even see him… Are we sure I didn’t hallucinate? Maybe we all hallucinated the same thing…”

“That’s not possible,” Craig reminded him gently.

“Plus,” Brian jumped in, sneaky grin on his face. “He’ll be with Evan and we’re going to find Evan for Jon anyway. Ye can talk to him then!”

Lucas looked at him with such an expression of disbelief and disgust Jon choked on his own giggling. “ _Talk_ to him!? Are you fucking stupid?”

Craig threw his head back in laughter and Brian frowned, pouting in confusion.

“I can’t fucking talk to him, I’m literally incompetent. Or did you just zone out during the past five minutes? You know, the most humiliating and exciting five minutes of my _life_? He’s so _pretty_ and he called me _cute_ and- oh my God, what if he gives me his number?” The boy vanished off into his own thoughts in only a few seconds and Craig and Brock shot off to go fetch food while Brian, Jon and Lucas found themselves a booth and table among the busy food court.

Every now and then, his train of thought slipped from his lips, eyes blinking rapidly and flicking between his two friends as though hoping for answers. Both boys watched him curiously while waiting for food but didn’t supply any sort of help to their friend. He was quite the odd one; they all were a little quirky in their own way of course. Lucas tended to be a bit random and excitable and always expressed his thoughts and feelings to an extreme. It was something they all loved and something they could all laugh at (especially in times like this).

By the time his face had cooled to something similar to his usual complexion and his eyes had returned to a normal size, the other two returned with food and they all resorted to silence while they ate. Brian thought particularly heavily, Brock looking around and Craig on his phone. Lucas ate slowly and all four knew he’d shrunk back into his thoughts, leaving him to conjure up scenarios and overthink every possible outcome of everything.

He’d come back to them.

And he did when conversation jumped onto the topic of their current shopping. They each recounted their purchases, Brock whining about his lack of money and Craig nodding empathetically. Brian and Lucas were both relatively well off with that and Jon didn’t spend much anyway. Lucas raved on about the two pairs of shoes he bought, wondering which to wear and what would look best with them. Brock spoke casually about some lighter clothing he’d bought and Jon eyed Brian closely as the Irish boy dropped his head. He was unable to hide the redness of his ears but the others seemed too caught up in conversation to notice their friend’s embarrassment.

Jon just grinned, finding his friend’s foot and tapping it lightly with his own. Brian glanced up only to immediately drop his head again at the sly grin on Jon’s face. The brunette bit his tongue to prevent himself from giggling and left the boy alone to recover from whatever he was imagining.

“What time are we gonna get to Jon’s in the morning? It seems smart if we all go there first.” Craig placed his phone down and looked around at them. Jon shrugged, not caring for planning - he tended to be more unorganised than any of them. “Would that suit you guys?” he asked Jon, not wanting to make plans if he and his family weren’t alright with it.

He nodded and Brock glanced at his phone. “Let’s say nine a.m. at Jon-Jon’s and we all leave at ten. Hopefully that will mean we’ll get there and get sorted by maybe… eleven-thirty?”

They all listened closely, Brock definitely the parent of their group. He took the responsibility of planning and deciding and no one bothered to question it.

Jon groaned, head falling back. “Nine!? It’s a Sunday!” Brock’s grin was effectively ignored and Lucas affectionately patted Jon’s shoulder. No one offered a change of plans and the oldest huffed a sigh. “Fuckin’ fine. But if y’all are loud and annoying, I will kick you the fuck out and you won’t be coming with us.”

The threat was, of course, completely empty and they all knew they wouldn’t be being quiet tomorrow morning. They were already buzzing with different levels of enthusiasm and the next day would bring much more excited energy. Even so, the whole group nodded obediently, a complete lie that they all knew; that Jon knew.

He just rolled his eyes and played with the milkshake straw between his teeth. It was always a shock to most that Jonathon was the oldest of their clique of seven. Hell, he was one of the oldest in the year. He acted far younger than his age, likely a habit from always hanging around younger students and cousins and such. Even among his main school friends, they often teased him for being the oldest but one of the most childish.

When their table had been mostly cleared of food and Lucas had voiced his mental list of their next destinations, they put their trash in the bin and set off again, a keen eye out for any of their peers. Brian jokingly rushed to him after another half an hour, muttering “John’s here!” and the poor body stumbled back, hit Craig in the face _again_ and his face, neck and ears flushed bright red.

Brian got hit over the head by Brock, of course, who comforted the almost-hyperventilating Lucas. Once it had been made clear John wasn’t with them and he wasn’t going to die of embarrassment, Lucas calmed himself and regulated his breathing once again. He glared at Brian for the following hour before the incident was forgotten and he was grabbing his friend by the shoulders to show him shirts and hoodies.

They each decided on outfits for the festival, picking out and trying on ridiculously expensive suits and dress-clothing for their own amusement, before buying what they could afford and talking non-stop from shop to shop about plans and goals and what they couldn’t wait to do. Craig explained the meals his dad was cooking for them, two baskets full of snacks and two large picnic blankets. They’d take all their stuff in and set up before anything.

By the time the day was half done, Brock was pushing a whole shopping trolley full of at least three full bags of shopping per person and a Lucas eating skittles. Alice arrived at Jon’s call and they loaded all of their bags together in the back of her car, half getting in Brock’s car and half in Alice’s. Brian and Craig begrudgingly agreed to go with their friend after Lucas and Jon beat them into Alice’s. Brock pouted behind the wheel of his car with insult and Alice laughed at the boys’ childishness.

She put the radio on full volume for the drive back with Jon and Lucas, the two boys screaming loudly along to the Adele disk they put in the radio. When they finally got back to Jon’s house, their voices were hoarse and they fell from the car giddy and giggling with two empty packets of skittles.

They hauled their bags up to the house, leaving them in piles in the living room and falling down on the three couches. Lucas hadn’t stopped giggling, Craig poking him routinely and provoking further laughter and silliness. Riley and Brock bought glasses of cordial for all of them, the boy chatting away with Jon’s mother. All five of them spent twenty minutes splayed out over cushions and one another before they were each walking out the door with their belongings and hopping into parents’ cars.

With thanks to Alice and Riley, the house was left empty and Jon dragged his purchases upstairs where he played his own music and hung everything up in his wardrobe. The last few hours of his Saturday was spent at his desk, finishing any extra work and messing around on his laptop.

 

**_Saturday, 17:34_ **

**Suni - > Moo-Moo, Twink One, Twink Two, “Jay”, Terroriser, and Mini Thot.**

**Suni:** tmr morning plans?

 **Twink Two:** all come to jons and riley and alice are gonna drop us off

 **Twink One:** oh hell yes

 **Twink One:** how was shopping

 **“Jay”:** ask lucas

 **Twink Two:** shut the fuck up????

 **Suni:** did you run into john and embarrass yourself?

 **Mini Thot:** my gfs a psychic

 **Suni:** <3

 **Mini Thot:** <3

 **Terroriser:** fuck off

 **Mini Thot:** :(

 **Suni:** :(

 **“Jay”:** shopping was good, we’re all broke now

 **Twink One:** so who is gonna get laid tomorrow

 **Terroriser:** jon

 **“Jay”:** stop that

 **Terroriser:** lucas

 **Twink Two:** yeet

 **Twink Two:** nO WRONG TIMING

 **Suni:** omg

 **Terroriser:** craig and suni are probs gonna fuck

 **Mini Thot:** probs not

 **Suni:** wow when you get rejected

 **Suni:** heart broken

 **Moo-Moo:** aren’t you ace?

 **Suni:** you think you know me brock??

 **Mini Thot:** yeah she is lmao

 **Suni:** BETRAYED AGAIN

 **Terroriser:** nvm craig and suni have been removed from getting-laid list

 **“Jay”:** why is this a thing

 **Terroriser:** jon and lucas are definitely getting dick tomorrow though lets be honest

 **Moo-Moo:** why ar my friends like this

 **Terroriser:** you love us

 **Suni:** you love him

 **Moo-Moo:** what

 **Terroriser:** huh

 **Suni:** oh my gOD

**Suni left the chat**

**Twink Two:** who loves who

 **Terroriser:** you love john

 **Twink Two:** who dat

 **Terroriser:** …

 **Twink One:** im getting new friends

 **Twink One:** also, question

 **Twink Two:** oh no

 **Twink One:** shut up

 **Twink One:** who is evan’s friend

 **Twink One:** the hot black guy

 **Twink One:** with the really cool tattoo on his bicep

 **Mini Thot:** twink

 **Moo-Moo:** I don’t know his name but I know he’s got a girlfriend

 **Twink One:** wait the really pretty girl????

 **Mini Thot:** _twink_

 **“Jay”:** marcel. his gf is simone. they’re both part of that punk group and they’re both scary as fuck

 **Twink One:** okay because they’re both hot and pretty

 **Terroriser:** scott’s thirsty

 **Mini Thot:** so are you bri

 **“Jay”:** poly where

 **Twink One:** poly here bitch

 **Terroriser:** k scotts also getting laid

 **Terroriser:** a threesome too

 **Twink One:** stop no

 **Twink One:** legit everyone is mono anyway so like… no

 **Mini Thot:** scotty def wants to get in

 **“Jay”:** 100%

 **Twink Two:** lmao

 **Mini Thot:** im not mono

 **Twink Two:** tbh neither

 **Terroriser:** im open to poly

 **Twink One:** ok so not legit everyone but chances of both of them being poly is too small and the fact that both would like me or find me attractive and then the fact that both would want me to be a part of their relationship is kind of stupid sooooo im fine with crying a lot its ok

 **Moo-Moo:** do you need a hug tomorrow

 **Twink One:** yes

 **Moo-Moo:** ok good luck finding one

 **Twink One:** WOW

 **Terroriser:** OH MY GOD BROCK

 **Mini Thot:** holy shit

 **“Jay”:** broCK WHY

 **Twink Two:** his savagery is too much

 **Twink One:** where did i go wrong

 **Twink One:** i lost a friend

 **Twink One:** somewhere along in the bitterness

 **Twink One:** amd I would have stayed up

 **Twink One:** with you all night

 **Twink One:** had I known

 **Terroriser:** how to shut the fuck up

 **Terroriser:** cry somewhere else fuckboy

 **“Jay”:** im sure if you ask nice enough marcel could give you a hug

 **Twink One:** you think so?

 **“Jay”:** no

 **Mini Thot:** i’ll give you a hug scott :)

 **Twink One:** mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

 **Twink One:** no thanks

 **Twink One:** dont want one

 **Mini Thot:** dick

 **Suni:** im back and the twinks confuse me, we need name changes

 **“Jay”:** we’ll do them tomorrow after the festival

 **Suni:** good shit

 **Moo-Moo:** I have food so im out

 **“Jay”:** same bitchs, bye

 **Twink One:** bitches* at least get it right

 **“Jay”:** fuck yourself

 **Twink One:** only if you help me :)

**“Jay” left the chat**


	10. a bit of fluster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here ya go bois!

**10.  
**

The sound of the door slamming open broke Jon’s sleep, the shallow dream in his thoughts dissolving before he could lock it into his memories. His mattress shifted, sinking under more weight, and he turned to press his face into his pillow. There were already too many photos of his sleeping face on all of his friends’ phones, there didn’t need to be anymore.

The weight scampered across the bed, a hand pressing down painfully on his ankle before whoever it was was hovering above him. He grunted, bracing for Brock or Brian. It only took a second of silent debate before the body dropped and splayed over him with a mass of hair tickling his face and neck. The long curls that covered any of his face that was visible gave away the identity of the criminal and before he could try find a voice to scold the girl his mattress was shifting again.

“Wakey, wakey!” Brian’s obnoxious accent met his ears and Suni squealed as another body, heavier than hers, was added to both of them. Jon grunted, lips and eyes glued shut as he shifted slightly and squirmed over onto his front. Any possible thought that maybe if he didn’t say anything they’d leave him alone vanished as another weight was thrown onto the pile, Lucas’ giddy giggling filling the room.

Suni wriggled around on top of him, kicking her feet and laughing into his pillow as the two boys on top of her swayed and shifted back and forth, Lucas bouncing up and down on top of all of them. The smallest of the four cried out as the weight squeezed her lungs and made her breathless with laughter. “Get off!” she wheezed, unable to do much else then cackle and gasp in any air she could.

Jon groaned longingly into his pillow, the bed beneath him creaking with the unwanted weight. With a heavy sigh he swung himself to the right, rolling onto his side and sending the two boys on top of him sprawling. Suni scrambled off his back and consequently fell off the bed completely in her haste to escape. Lucas was sent directly off the mattress, a heavy thump sounding with his destination on Jon’s carpet.

The brunette rolled back onto his front, sleepily dragging a pillow up over his head and curling up into the smallest ball he could. With his friends in his house he did not trust them not to hurt, tickle or torture him in any other way while he was trapped beneath blankets and pillows. The less access to his limbs, the better.

“Morning Jon!” Brock called, walking into the room and breathing a small laugh at the disarray of bodies. Brian giggled, the only one of their pile other than Jon that managed to stay on the mattress. Jon grunted aggressively. “I’d say that I tried to stop them but I really didn’t.” The next grunt was angrier.

“Get tha fuck ou’ my room,” he slurred, having absolutely no effect on anyone as the pillow was yanked from his grip. He cracked his eyes open only to shriek when his blankets vanished from around him and the air of his room enveloped him with cold and vulnerability. That was definite when two hands latched onto each of his ankles and he was hauled halfway down his bed.

He jolted up with a shout, eyes wide and hands snatching up the shirts of Suni and Brian who were wearing identical grins. He snarled, shoving the both of them back. “Get the fuck out of my house, you assholes.” His voice was husky and the threats, as per usual, did nothing against his giggling friends. Instead, Lucas crawled back up onto his bed with him and threw his arms around him. “Have you been eating sugar? Really!? It’s…” He reached for his phone, rubbing at his eyes. “Eight-thirty!? What the fuck!?” he shrieked and Lucas jumped back before he received the brunt of the brunette’s irritation.

They all scrambled from his room other than Brock who leant against his desk with a little smile on his lips. Jon raised a finger. “You,” he uttered, shaking his head with a fiery glare. “Fuck you.” He fell back onto the mattress, longing for sleep he knew impossible to reach. Not with his piece-of-shit friends in his house.

“You should save yourself the torment and get up now, or Suni and Craig will be stealing your moms and adopting themselves as your siblings.”

He savoured a long ten seconds surrounded by the warmth of his mattress and pillows before heaving himself up and swinging his legs off the bed. When he properly looked at Brock, he acknowledged his outfit and raised his eyebrows. “Well this is different.” The boy let out a laugh but Jon could tell he was obviously out of his comfort zone.

His cropped shirt showed off his tummy, the wide neck exposing his collarbone and one shoulder. His shorts were also shorter than he usually wore them, stopping a little way above his knees enough that his thighs could be seen (and appreciated by some). The boy wasn’t used to showing off his body so much. It wasn’t as though he was self-conscious or not happy with his body. He knew he didn’t need defined muscles or anything, and was happy with softer skin and a bit of fat. His friends adored him also, but his concern was of how other people reacted.

Their town wasn’t completely homophobic, but being a “faggot” came with a lot of shit. As much as Jon and his friends adored wearing soft colours and cuter clothes, they got mocked and made fun of and it was always a fear when they went out that they would come across someone so hateful that verbal abuse wasn’t enough.

They never let it bother them too much though, not getting down or scared of doing and wearing what they wanted. But it was hard not to worry.

“You look hot,” Jon said. He stood and ruffled his hair tiredly. Brock smiled slightly but his fingers never stopped fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Honest. I’m gonna be wearing a cropped tee too, don’t worry. We’ll stick together.”

They didn’t need to mention homophobic assholes. It was something they all knew enough about. It went unspoken.

Brock seemed to relax though, concern decreasing with the mention that he wouldn’t be the only one wearing less masculine clothes. “Yeah.” He nodded to himself as Jon shed his shirt. “We’ll have fun.” He left Jon to change, and the brunette took his time finding his outfit from yesterday. He dressed, tidied himself up and stared hard at the flower crown that sat looped over the top corner of his mirror.

It took him a long few seconds to pluck it from its place and nestle it carefully in his hair. His shirt was loose and wide on his small frame, light and thin. It was a soft white and his pale-blue ripped skinny jeans hugged his legs comfortably. He twisted and turned in front of his mirror, adoring the way he looked soft and cute and loving the faint grey words scrawled onto the fabric of his shirt where a pocket would usually sit: “ _too cute to care”_. As much as Bri would bully him about the dorky phrase, he couldn’t deny his adoration for the outfit as a whole and just wearing it had excitement flowing through his bloodstream. The festival was going to be so much fun.

With his sleepiness gone and pink converse on, he trotted downstairs and met teasing wolf-whistles in the living room. His friends were stretched out over couches dressed up fancy and colourful. Their faces were lit with excitement and joy and Alice and Riley were enthusiastically chatting to them about school and everything else.

Both women couldn’t have been happy with the people Jon decided to make friends with and they adored each and every one of them. Jon’s feeling of content made space for the feeling of ‘oh shit’ when Evan’s name fell from Brian’s lips and he made a point to step back out of the room.

He easily made himself a bowl of cereal, sitting alone in the kitchen and scrolling through his phone. He put it down when Suni walked in, another few inches taller with the heels she wore. They weren’t deadly or ankle-breaking, but her feet arched in a way Jon thought _had_ to be painful. She didn’t seem bothered at all though, hair tousled in a way that looked impossibly pretty. Her face was dusted with makeup, features defines and eyes shining.

She wore her skirt with confidence, legs looking longer and shoulders bare beneath the straps of the loose red singlet she wore. “You look amazing.” She lit up at the compliment, sitting herself on a stool and grinning at her friend. Jon just nodded, enforcing his words. “You do. Really.”

“Thanks Jonny, you look cute as all heck. You and Brock rock cropped shirts so well, Evan’s going to _die_ when he sees you.” Her words were soft and genuine and Jon was only reminded once again how much he loved the girl. She leaned in close, grin on her pink lips showing the mischief that sparkled in her eyes. “Brian can’t even _look_ at Brock without his face going pink. It’s hilarious and Brock is so aware of it too. He’s driving Bri insane.”

Jon stood and put his dishes away, listening to the girl ramble on about how if Brian didn’t do anything today she would whoop his ass because Brock was pretty much waiting for him to make a move. Brock, albeit shy and kind, knew how to have each and every one of them wrapped around his finger. With Brian being so obviously attracted to him, the boy was going to have a Hell of a time trying to control himself if he didn’t sweep Brock off his feet by the end of the day. That cropped shirt showed just enough to have the Irish boy being pushed further and further away from self-control. He’d undoubtedly be pulling Brock to him on impulse and as much as the lot of them wanted the two to get together, they did not want to witness Brian shove the other against a wall mid-conversation.

He grimaced to himself as Suni mentioned the two going at it and shook the concerning imagery from his thoughts. Before either of them could continue or close their conversation, Riley appeared in the doorway with a soft smile. “You guys can hang around here for another hour and we’ll leave at ten, sound good?”

The two agreed before dragging themselves back to the others. Brock had already put Mario Kart up on the TV and the five of them were very closely invested in the four-way split screen. Brian was smirking smugly, Lucas muttering under his breath in second place behind the Irish-boy. Craig and Scott, on the other hand, were snarling and snapping at the CPU’s and their own friends, neither enjoying themselves at all with the game. Jon and Suni shared a look, their friends too competitive for their own good. Neither of the two cared much when it came to winning or losing games, both choosing instead to mess with and piss off their competitors whenever they joined in.

They couldn’t deny the silly amusement they found with watching the boys rage. Jon fell down beside Brock, knowing the other wasn’t one to enjoy the racing game. He’d played one or twice before only for the rest of them to focus all their tyranny onto him, forcing him into fits of frustration and receiving a weak of furious silence.

None of them even tried to get him to play again and he blissfully pretended he’d never held the controller in the first place.

He smiled at Jon’s appearance, his arms instinctively folded over his stomach just below the hem of his shirt. The Jon’s thin white shirt was cropped just above his naval and his jeans sat comfortable on his hips. The expanse of his lower abdomen was flat and pale but it was enough to relax boy beside him a slight bit more. Arms fell away from exposed skin and came to rest on pillows instead.

Neither said anything about it, Brock instead speaking of a family gathering his aunty was organising. It was the first since he’d openly come out on social media and though he was nervous, he’d received different messages of love and pride from his cousins and relatives.

At one point, Craig let out a howl of glee, Scott’s cry of anger and distress drowned out beneath it as the scrawnier boy was overtaken and left in last place, screen half splattered black.

“I’m done!” he shouted, standing and dropped his remote on the couch. Jon could see he was ready to land the device in the TV screen had it been less expensive and not somebody else’s property. Craig was breathing heavily, Suni laughing to herself as she patted his cheek. Brian looked put out on the other side of Brock, character crying with a large ‘2’ in the bottom corner of his section of the screen. Lucas looked smug.

Scotty vanished from the room, his angry aura reappearing after a few minutes with a glass of water in his hand. He glared at the other three boys who had all placed their controllers down also. Jon connected his phone to the speaker, turning off his TV in fear of another game starting and something expensive being shattered.

“Jon, you have to talk to Marcel and ask him about his relationship with his girlfriend.” Lucas grinned, eyes big and innocent. The statement had come out of nowhere and Suni muffled her giggling in Craig’s shoulder. Jon blinked slowly, obviously confused, while Scotty choked on the water in his mouth, eyes bugging out. Lucas ran his fingers through his curly dark hair, shaking his head. “You gotta find out if they’re mono or poly, dumbass. Our good friend Scotty wants a threesome and –,” he smirked, “–as wonderful friends, we have to help him out!”

Jon’s frown didn’t falter and Brian had to pat Scott’s back roughly to help his lungs get working again. “You don’t… need to do that… at all,” he wheezed, gasping in air that didn’t seem to help his issue at all.

Lucas laughed. “Yeah you do. It is important information; for science.” His declaration didn’t seem to make Jon eager to agree, but the cheesy smile didn’t falter at anything.

“I’m terrified of their whole group,” he said, blunt and obvious. Lucas just blinked, the statement not a worthwhile excuse for refusal. “They all have muscle, and tattoos, and piercings, and they’re all taller than six foot, as well as really attractive. I can’t just go up and be like: ‘Yo, hey, what’s up – it’s ya boi. Just curious: are you mono or poly?’ that’s not how things work. I can’t just ask him that.”

Lucas stared. “Why not?”

“Oh my God, you ask him then,” Jon laughed, the conversation nothing above stupid.

“No way, I don’t want to look like an idiot!”

“What!? Neither do I!”

“You always do though, it won’t be any different from usual!”

Jon’s stare twisted with pinched brows and pouted lips. “Fuck you.”

Brian snickered, also earning a dirty look from the oldest. The glare faltered though as Jon acknowledged Brock’s silence, the boy fiddling with his fingers while not looking anywhere but the carpet. Brian’s cheeks were dusted red behind his smirk of amusement, his arm having fallen from the back of the couch to rest across Brock’s shoulders. His form was loose, not hugging the other boy to his side but not stiff or obviously uncomfortable either.

Through Brock’s fluster it was clear he was comfortable beneath the Irish boy’s arm.

Jon’s urge to point it out and embarrass the two was extremely difficult to ignore as he turned away. But the smallest of moves were progress and he wanted the two to get it over with sooner rather than later. Embarrassing them would lead to the idiots pretending nothing happened and trying to act they weren’t head over heels for each other.

He swung his attention back to Lucas, pointing at him. “If you want to know, you can ask the dude yourself. I’m going to be busy –“

“Fucking Evan?” Suni cut in, grin big and sweet.

Jon shot her a look also. “Busy _dancing_ and enjoying myself,” he corrected, voice sharp. He folded his arms across his chest and sat back heavy in the sofa.

Lucas’s lips twisted in thought, eyes studying Scott who was getting pinker by the second. “Why don’t we just get Scotty to ask him?” Pink, pink, pink.

Brock laughed before Scott could think to respond. “He’ll implode and start talking about something else and then come back to us in tears because he’s gay and Marcel’s too hot and Simone is stunning and he ruined his chance of getting with them.” Everyone sat in stunned silence at the prediction, Craig and Suni nodding and Scott shamefully shrugging in agreement.

“That was…” Lucas cleared his throat, “really depressing and unsurprisingly accurate.”

Scott shrugged again.

“I’ll think of something.” The grin the youngest wore brought worry to Scott’s eyes.

“Or you could not do that…” he muttered, rubbing his red face and shaking his head. Lucas seemed to have not heard him, but before anyone else could add to the conversation, Riley walked in with keys in hand.

“Ready to go?” she asked, looking over the blushing faces and sneaky grins. She smiled to herself at the teenage shenanigans, Alice appearing at her side. “Who’s coming with who?”

The seven of them collected themselves, standing and searching for anything they could be forgetting. Brock looked between them all. “How about Jon, Suni, Lucas and Craig all go with Riley and Scott, Bri and I will go with Alice?” he offered and Jon gave Suni a look. She rolled her eyes with a smirk.

Scott frowned at the ground. “I don’t want to third-wheel…” he muttered under his breath and Brian flushed. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe to suggest a change of plans, but Brock seemed to have not heard Scotty and was already leaving the room to grab a few of the bags stacked in the hall. The Irish boy hesitated a second, before following the other with a small smile on his lips. No words were spoken and he just helped Brock carry things out of the house. The rest of them joined in also, Jon listening as Riley listed the things he was to make sure none of them did while there.

He was sure to be hearing it all again on the way there but nodded happily with promises of safe actions and care. When the food, blankets and belongings were stacked neatly in both cars, the two moms did a double check of everything and the boys made sure they all had their valuable items on them, and their bags in their respective car.

Once everything was checked, they  squashed into their cars and Riley and Alice shared a small kiss before getting into a vehicle each.

Lucas was bouncing in the seat beside Jon, the oldest being stuck between him and Suni. Craig had called shotgun early and had more of his own space. The car wasn’t exactly small, but it was definitely crowded and Riley laughed when she looked back over her shoulder. The two boys, albeit short, were folded tightly, legs long and awkward. Suni’s space was decreased purely because the other two were far too squashed together, but her small frame didn’t care much for it as she laughed.

Lucas was far too focused on trying to comfortably position his legs, roughly kneeing Jon in the thigh several times. The older boy just shoved him back, nothing more than playful, and Craig eased his seat back far enough to have Lucas squeaking at him to put it back up.

The other car wasn’t much different, Scotty locking himself in the front seat. It was a smaller car than the first and one seat in the back held a large basket of food and drink, too bulky to fit in the boot. That meant Brock and Brian had to sit squished up beside one another and from the glint in Alice’s eyes when she glanced through the rear-view mirror, reasons for their discomfort wasn’t discreet. 

The drive was twenty-five minutes long, Alice’s car staying just behind Riley’s as they cruised down the busy streets. Craig’s music flowed through the speaker in their car, Lucas chatting excitedly to Riley about his mother and his younger sister and brother. Suni asked her about her career, curious about the law pathway. Jon hummed along to his music, scrolling through his social media on his phone.

Craig received a couple of messages from Scott, dictating what Alice wanted to ask Riley.

“Alice is asking what time are you’re picking us up this afternoon.”

“Tell Scotty to tell her they’ll let us know later.”

“Riley, she wants to know if she should go grocery shopping on the way home.”

“Tell him to tell her if she doesn’t, I’ll just go later.”

“Um… Alice wants to know if you’re low on milk. She can’t remember if she put it on the list or not.”

“Oh my God, tell her I’ll call her on the way home.”

“Riley, you and Alice are gay couple goals.”

“Suni dear, don’t ever marry a woman.”

Despite her sighs of exasperation and rolled eyes, Jon knew the way his mother’s lips pulled into a small smile when thinking or talking about her wife. He knew it was because no matter how silly or ridiculous the other woman could be, she would always love her.

He loved the both of them just as much.

When they finally got there, the crowds were smaller than they had expected and they easily unloaded their bags, putting on backpacks for themselves and carrying the basket of food and extra stuff they brought. They got themselves seven tickets without much trouble and Lucas tripped in his excitement to find a spot on the large spaces of grass.  A stage was set up a couple hundred metres from where they put their stuff down on a slight slope, a woman with a guitar in her hands playing leisurely as she sung into a mic.

The relatively large crowd of people that stood close to the stage danced and sung, breathing good vibes and happiness from where they moved to the music. Jon was excited to join them when his favourite artists played, and he could tell the rest of his friends were just as eager. But they had an hour before the first artist they knew started, and got busy laying two large picnic blankets out, putting their bags along the sides to keep it all from blowing away.

Other groups of teens and small families were doing the same as them, keeping the same distance from the stage as to make room for the crowd of dancers to grow. Each one allowed enough space between themselves, not wanting to intrude on other people’s space. Though the festival was exciting, it was not as popular as to have the grounds overflowing with people, that being one of the large reasons why Jon was so excited to go. It was fun just to spend time with his friends and listen to good music without being smothered by hundreds of other people.

When they had their little area all organised and neat, Craig fell down on his back, spreading out over one whole blanket with a big sigh. “You guys go have fun, I’ll look… after the stuff…”

Suni laughed, carelessly sitting on his stomach and earning a cry of pain from her boyfriend. “You’d go to sleep and wouldn’t even flinch if someone went through our shit right next to you. They’d go through your pockets and you’d just snore.”

The blue-haired boy frowned, lifting his head to make his pout obvious to the girl who grinned. Before she could get up, Lucas sat himself on her lap, ignoring her squeak of surprise and laughing when she unbalanced and fell back. Craig groaned, Lucas’ added weight not too nice on his stomach.

Brock rolled his eyes at the stupidity of his friends, choosing the second blanket to sit himself down. He didn’t blush when Brian sat next to him. He definitely didn’t find it difficult to swallow when he crossed his legs and pressed his thigh against his.

“When you guys want to go for a wander, I’m happy to stay and look after the stuff,” he suggested, shrugging at the grateful smiles.

Brian bumped his shoulder softly. “I’ll keep ye company, Brocky.” The few seconds of eye contact was too much, the weak smile and redness of Brock’s face fuelled by panic and appreciation and the overwhelming reminder that within a week, his crush on the Irish boy had sky-rocketed.

“You would Br–” Suni’s comment was muffled beneath Lucas’ hand and not repeated when Brock frowned confusedly at the pile of them.

Scott shook his head. “I hate couples,” he claimed, dropped his backpack and half-heartedly waving his friends goodbye as he walked off. They watched him go as Lucas and Suni toppled off Craig, letting the guy breathe again. Jon sat down and made a small stack of bags he could lie back on. Excitement for the day bubbled in his bloodstream and the silence that settled over all of them was buzzing beneath the calmness.

“How long until Scott comes back wheezing because he proposed to Simone, do ye think?” Brian asked and Suni giggled.

“I’ll put ten minutes,” she said, head on Craig’s chest. “He’ll spend nine of those trailing them in hopes they come to talk to him and when he finally grows a pair he’ll probably start speaking French or something and freak out.”

“Does he know French?” Brock asked in surprise and Suni snorted.

“Of course not.”

“I’ll say twenty,” Jon said, resting his hands behind his head. “He’ll take a while to find them and then probably get lost trying to find us again.”

Lucas grinned. “I’ll say seven, and it’ll be because he tried to propose to both of them at once.”


	11. phone numbers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic will remain central to h2ovanoss as a ship, but it will include a lot of other ships if you hadn't already noticed. they'll be mentioned and probably explored a lot, but h2ovanoss will be what it starts and ends with <3  
> thanks so much

**11.**

Scott wandered to the opposite end of the grounds without seeing anyone he knew. He avoided the stage and crowd, strolling all the way around the large backstage tents and wandering through the foliage and between tall, thick trees. The park itself was pretty; stretches of rich green grass and little spots of greenery. Bushes wearing flowers of all colours, trees of thick, bright leaves. It was a place for walking dogs, taking children, teenage dates: the perfect venue for a small music festival the locals could enjoy.

The skinny boy found his way to the other side of the stage, no longer able to see his friends jumping around and being silly. He couldn’t fight the fond smile on his lips when he thought of them and how spending the day together was going to be unimaginably hilarious. He walked around several little day campsites, groups of people spread around chatting and laughing. He glanced at his phone to check the time at one point, putting it back in the back pocket of his jeans. Carelessly, his foot caught in a little ditch in the ground and he lost his balance.

He stumbled, arms flailing like an idiot as he tried desperately to get his feet beneath him again. He _would have_ caught himself had he not slammed into something with his shoulder, another body unfortunately stepping in his way. A squeak left his mouth as he and another smaller body were sent to the ground.

His head spun as he tried to track the last few seconds, his legs caught beneath someone else and red face pressed to the grass. “Fuckin’ shit,” he swore, pushing himself up and twisting over to meet the wide eyes of the girl he’d taken to the grass with him. She was half sitting on his legs, blinking big light-brown eyes as she too tried to understand what had just happened. “I’m so sorry!” he blurted out, ready to fake his own death and move to Australia.

Shocking him, Simone laughed, eyes sparkling as she shuffled back and rolled off his body. “You’re alright,” she giggled.

Scott got to his feet, hasty and humiliated as he brushed his sweaty hand against his leg before offering it to the girl on the grass. She accepted it, laugh painting a smile on her lips. “Are you hurt? I’m so sorry, I should have been more careful.” His heart was banging around in his ribcage, bouncing back and forth as he stared at the grass.

She just shook her head. “I’m fine, please. Don’t worry, I was just surprised,” she promised, patting his arm lightly before he stepped back to give her space. “Are you hurt at all?” she asked and he glanced up to her careful eyes.

He shook his head, words swallowed as someone moved behind him.

“You two okay?” Scott almost fainted when he turned around, Simone’s boyfriend panting slightly as he jogged up beside her. He took one look at her smiling face and relaxed slightly before turning to Scotty. “I saw you collide from the food trucks,” he explained before his expression twisted with confusion. “Hey, I’ve seen you around, are we in the same year?”

Scotty’s eyes were blown wider than ever, panic as both of his crushes stood in front of him. He forcefully swallowed the lump in his throat, trying not to let his gaze linger on the little rings and studs of silver that decorated their faces. “I, um. Y-yeah I am. We are. Yeah.”

Simone glanced at Marcel, and Scott tore his eyes away from the girl’s lips. She had angel bite piercings on either side above her top lip, and one little ball in the centre of her bottom lip. He closed his eyes and mumbled curses in his mind when she ran her tongue over it. It was no help, he found, when he looked to Marcel instead who was studying his face with curious brown eyes.

“What’s your name?” he asked, tone demanding but calm.

Scotty feared for a moment the boy was about to punch him in the throat for even looking at his girlfriend. “Scotty,” he said, looking to the grass instead of the two rings that bit into the side of his bottom lip.

_Why did they both have to be so hot!?_

“Huh,” was all that Marcel said, eyes still looking over the boy’s red face.

His girlfriend tugged at his sleeve leaning up to mumble something in his ear. Scotty couldn’t stand wandering what she’d said or what they were thinking or how much of a dumbass he was. “I’m, uh, so sorry for running into you. My friends- I should-… Nice to meet you!” he squeaked, voice breaking as the two looked back to him in surpris. His panicked goodbye was accompanied with him turning on his heel and hastily striding off.

_Dumbass. Dumbass. Dumbass. Dumbass._

Simone watched the boy hurry away before looking up to her boyfriend with sparkling eyes. “He’s cute,” she mentioned, the comment supposedly unspecific and meaningless. Marcel just laughed, shaking his head and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Give him your number then,” he told her, the teasing joke twisting the girl’s lips in a daring smirk.

She turned and walked away from him. “Maybe I’ll give him yours.”

The moment Scotty was out of sight from the little group of punks, most of which having watched him hastily waddle away with a bright red face and wide, embarrassed eyes, he broke into a jog and found his way back to his own group of friends. Upon being spotted by them, Brock choked on his drink and Brian took one look at him before breaking out into loud laughter.

“It’s been eleven minutes! I was closest, fuckboys, someone buy me a drink!” Suni crowed, giggling as the glaring boy sat down next to Jon.

The brunette bit his lip in a weak attempt not to laugh at his friend, patting his shoulder sympathetically. “Wanna tell us what happened?”

“You’ll laugh at me, you assholes. Fuck you,” he said, folding his arms over his chest and looking off to the trees. Brian failed to stifle his giggling, snorting into his hand and taking a hit over the head by Brock.

Suni grinned, scarily resembling the Cheshire cat. “We’re already laughing at you Scotty, you might as well just tell us.”

The six of them tried their best to hold in their laughter as he recounted running into Simone and taking her down, before talking to her and her boyfriend and pretty much dying. Craig hid his grin behind Suni’s hair, arm looped over her shoulder as she held her phone to her face, covering her smirk.

“Dumbass,” Lucas commented when he’d finished.

The sour look of disgust that covered Scotty’s face was enough for the rest to lose it, Brian howling with laughter and Suni bending over her crossed legs and cupping her hands over her mouth. Craig rocked back, grin wide, and Brock looked down as he bit his lips to stop himself. Jon smirked, but held it in for the benefit of his friend who continued to glare at Lucas.

“Says fuckin’ you! What about yesterday, fuckboy, or did you forget you’re little fangirl at the shops?” he snapped. Lucas’ grin didn’t falter, completely unfazed.

His brows creased with fake-thought, finger touching his bottom lip. “Yeah… yeah, I think I did! What a shame,” he said, grinning around each word. He dodged the shoe Scotty threw at him and laughed when the frustrated boy squared his shoulders and hugged his knees to his chest.

It was funny how he much he could look like a ten year old at the age of seventeen.

“Did you see any of the other punks?” Brian asked, Jon successfully studying the clouds instead of the Irish boy who very obviously was smirking in his direction.

Scott shrugged. “I think they were all there? I was too focused on getting the fuck out of there rather than doing a roll call, sorry.”

“Disappointing,” Craig said.

“We expect better.” Suni’s face was pink from the force of her laughing and she giggled every time she glanced at Scott.

“Shut the fuck up,” he whined, raising a middle finger to the two of them. “You straight bitches don’t know shit.”

Suni just grinned, pulling Craig in and locking their lips purely to piss their friends off. Lucas cried out in disgust, Scotty and Brian almost shrieking as Brock laughed and Jon covered his own eyes.

“Oh my God, _stop_ that! You two are disgusting,” Brian said, face contorted in disgust at the innocent kiss.

Suni blinked one eye open, her smile obvious as she leaned into her boyfriend and opened her mouth slightly. Craig rolled his eyes, unashamed and unbothered by his girlfriend’s antics as he kissed back. The act of fucking with their queer friends was highly entertaining and as their kiss progressed, the level of shock-horror of their friends increased dramatically.

Lucas dropped his face to his hands, wailing. “Someone gauge out my eyes, _please_ ,” he whispered. Brian was making violent gagging sounds from beneath Brock’s giggling, the boy just as entertained as the straight couple.

Jon mistakenly glanced up to check if the two were done, scarring himself as he watched Suni climb onto her boyfriend’s lap and grip his hair with both hands.

“There are children, you fucks.” Scotty threw a second shoe at the couple, looking like he’d eaten something gross.

When Suni pulled back, grin wide and highly satisfied, she sat down and patted her boyfriend’s cheek. The dazed look on Craig’s face was accompanied with sighs of relief and mumbles of remaining disgust from the rest of them. His blue hair was ruffled and his cheeks were tinted rosy.

Scotty rolled his eyes, digging his hand into his pocket in search for his phone. “Oh shit.” Each pair of eyes turned to follow his words, his eyes rolling back as he groaned. “I must have dropped my phone when I fell over,” he muttered, everyone checking the area around them for the device. His cheeks reddened and he ducked his head. “I don’t wanna go back over there; I’m gonna humiliate myself again.”

Jon grimaced, knowing the feeling all too well. He and Lucas locked eyes and he knew the other felt the exact same. “Come on: we’ll come with you so you don’t have to talk to anyone alone.”

Lucas’ look of empathy dropped, staring at Jon. “I hope you don’t mean me because, if you weren’t already aware, I’m even more likely to embarrass myself – especially if John’s there!” he hissed, glancing worriedly over his shoulder as though said punk was going to be watching them.

“Toughen up.” Brian laughed at the response of the youngest’s middle finger.

Jon shook his head. “Scotty needs support and I know you wanna see John. Once you get over embarrassing yourself, you can have sex and have children.”

“Okay but false. How do we even know he’s queer, we’re assuming way too much.”

Craig scoffed. “He called you cute three time the first time he spoke to you.”

“The only time he’s spoken to me!” Lucas cut in.

“Exactly!” The blue-haired boy carded his hands through his messy hair, rolling his eyes at the others’ stupidity.

 “Also when that kid called me a faggot he said: ‘he’s not the only faggot here and though he might take it, I won’t’, so I’m pretty sure he’s queer too,” Jon said, thinking back to the unenjoyable gym class. Lucas stared hard at him, brown eyes searching for anything to say that could rebut what he’d claimed.

When he came up with nothing, he just sighed and stood. There was bound to be some level of embarrassment for at least one of their little trio during the following few minutes as they walked somewhat reluctantly back towards the other side of the stage. Like Scotty had, they walked the long way around behind the tents, quiet conversation jumping between them.

“What _if_ John is there?” Lucas asked, pulling his black cap down further to hide part of his face.

“Talk to him?” Jon suggested earning a scoff from Scotty.

Lucas huffed a laugh. “Do you have a realistic suggestion?” he asked, dry humour a weak attempt to hide his nerves. It was clear he was worried about talking to the older boy, his looks just as attractive as they were intimidating.

All the punks seemed to have that effect.

“The worst that could happen is you embarrassing yourself, but he already thinks you’re cute and wants to talk to you. He was flirting with you yesterday, I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would completely turn him away from you.”

Once again, the younger boy was rendered silent, unsure whether to actually listen to his friend or stubbornly remain ignorant.

“At least you know he’s queer. I have no idea if Marcel is even into dudes, and even if he is I have no idea if either of them are poly!” Scotty muttered, uselessly kicking at a chunk of bark as they weaved through the little clump of trees. He let out a sigh and Lucas and Jon glanced at one another again with helplessness mingling in blue and brown. “I suck at getting over crushes too…”

Lucas slung an arm over his friend’s shoulders. “Look, who knows yet. If they’re mono then that sucks but we can still find you a cute person you can fall in love with later on in life. Your crush will fade,” he said. Despite usually being a sarcastic little shit, the boy was an amazing friend and had a very sweet, soft side to him. He’d stubbornly deny it in conversation but all of them knew they could talk to him about almost anything.

“Yeah, thanks man.”

Lucas detached from his friend, swinging around in front of him and excitedly skipping backwards. “But we don’t know yet and your dashing good looks aren’t easy to ignore, Scotty-boy.”

His enthusiasm rose with his energy and Jon’s words of, “Lou, watch out!” were too late as he swung around and took one step straight into another body.

“Is it going to become a normal thing to meet like this?” John’s soft voice held a smile, fingers curled around the shorter boy’s upper arms. Lucas had gone silent, his enthusiasm vanishing in thin air as he stared up at his crush.

_Panic, panic, panic, panic!_

“Shit, s-sorry!” he stammered, Scotty rolling his eyes at Jon as the two shared a smirk.

“Don’t mention it – I’m happy I ran into you anyway- well, happy you ran into me, I should say.” The little laugh that dropped from John’s lips made the action of swallowing extremely difficult for the curly-haired boy.

He gaped, a complete loss for words and Jon held in his sigh as he stepped up to help his poor friend. “Hey John, do you know if-”

“Yeah, Evan just got here.” The punk grinned, his eyes knowing as Jon blinked in surprise. It took a few seconds to actually understand what he’d said and why he’d said it before Jon felt heat crawl up his neck in fluster.

“Oh, I wasn’t- um. T-thanks,” he stammered, failing to fight down the blush as he realised he’d just embarrassed himself further. He glanced up, stupidly allowing his thoughts to get a hold of him as he instinctively sought out the aforementioned punk. Brown eyes were already locked on his and his heart leapt from his chest in alarm as he snapped his gaze to the grass.

Scotty huffed. _Gotta do everything myself,_ he thought. “Sorry, I walked by earlier and I think I may have dropped my phone around here. Did any of you guys pick it up?” he asked, drawing John’s attention to him instead.

He thought for a second, dropping his hands away from Lucas who notably shuffled back. Scotty spared a glance to his friends who had supposedly accompanied him to help him avoid embarrassment. Their matching red faces told him plainly enough that they wouldn’t be helping him with much at all.

“I’ll ask them; come on over,” John said, Scotty smiling in gratitude.

He pressed a hand to each of his friends’ backs, pushing them forward alongside him. Jon immediately dug his heels into the grass. “Um, no, I’m not going over there. No thanks, I can wait here. I’m good. Scotty _stop_ ,” he hissed, his blue eyes darting everywhere except in the Canadian punk’s direction. Before he could plead his friend to let him go again, the three of them were standing in front of the group, Tyler and Simone absent.

Evan smiled curiously at them, eyes obviously focused on Jon who refused to look anywhere near him. David and Marcel looked up when John cleared his throat. “Yo, any of you fuckers found a phone around here? This kid dropped his.” The gruff acknowledgement didn’t faze any of them, Evan shaking his head politely while David glanced dully at the three of them.

Marcel’s eyes landed on Scotty and he lit up in surprise. “Oh yeah! You dropped it when you fell over; Simone found it just after you left,” he explained, grabbing the device from the backpack he’d been using as a backrest.

A genuine smile of relief broke out across Scotty’s face, the boy stepping forward as Marcel stood. Despite Jon’s own fluster, a giddy level of amusement rose in his chest when he acknowledged the look in the dark-skinned boy’s eyes. He seemed to scan Scott’s face closely as he stepped up with the phone.

“Here. Simone wanted me to give you this with it, but don’t sweat it if you’re not interested. She likes to assume a lot,” he mentioned vaguely, impressively casual as Scott pulled the folded slip of paper from the back of his phone case.

He resisted the urge to open it, worried about what it could possibly contain. Instead he smiled at the punk, admiring the two silver balls above and below his left eyebrow. “Thank you so much, I was scared I’d lost it,” he said honestly. “Tell Simone I said so too.”

The air left his lungs as Marcel smiled. “No worries. I’ll see you ‘round?”

“Y-yeah.” Scotty took a moment to realise that was his cue to go, stepping back and running into Jon. The brunette shuffled out of his way and the two glanced at Lucas, very ready to get the Hell out of there before either of them could do anything stupid.

They were forced to wait however as John turned to the dark-haired boy, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. “Where are you guys set up?” he asked and Lucas swallowed thickly before pointing vaguely in the direction of their little camp.

“On the, uh, other side of the stage and a little way that way,” he said.

John nodded slowly in thought. He glanced at his friend’s, particularly meeting Evan’s gaze, before he turned back to meet Lucas’ eyes. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other again,” he promised, the younger boy feeling heat on his cheeks.

“I- yeah. Thanks again, um…” he trailed off, Scotty grabbing his arm to stop him from dozing out of reality completely. “See you later!” he squeaked, heat showing red.

Scotty pulled the boy back, easing the three of them away from the punks. Jon met dark chocolate eyes for a second, a cigarette being placed between soft-looking lips. He snapped his attention away, asking himself for the umpteenth time how the punk was able to just stare at people without feeling embarrassed or ashamed. It made him feel flustered until he was completely out of sight of the group in which he breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“Well you two were _great_ support,” Scotty drawled as the three appeared on the other side of the stage. “So glad you fuckboys came to help me.”

A new song started up beside them. “It’s not my fault I ran into him _again_ ,” Lucas muttered, face still pink. “And he’s saying stuff that I can’t tell if it’s flirting or not! I don’t know how to talk to him.”

Jon nodded, Scotty rolling his eyes. “I can’t do shit either. Evan just looks at me and he’s _so hot_ guys, you don’t understand,” the brunette groaned, head lolling back.

“We do,” Scotty and Lucas spoke together, glancing at each other knowingly.

The three were hopeless. It didn’t need to be stated, they all knew so well enough and when they finally returned to the other four, their smiles told them they knew just as well. “Who embarrassed themselves most?” Craig inquired, the three dropping their heads in shame. Lucas fell down on top of Suni and she took off his hat to pat his hair lovingly.

He raised a hand but looked up to Scotty with a change of thought. “What’s on that slip of paper?”

“Oh, I forgot about that,” he muttered, pulling it from the back of his phone case. They watched his eyes widen and lips part in surprise as he unfolded it and read it. After five seconds he clapped it between his hands and gawked at Lucas. His mouth opened and closed several times, completely at a loss for words before Brian was crawling forward and plucking the paper from his hands.

When he opened it, a grin spread across his face. “You’re shitting me,” he deadpanned. The paper held little writing, just two names and two different ten-digit numbers.

“Someone pinch me,” Scotty whispered, staring wide at Jon as though waiting for the boy to tell him it was just a joke and that he hadn’t just gotten both of his crushes’ numbers.

Suni shrugged, reaching over and pinching his arm between her thumb and forefinger. He flinched back after a second and Craig shook his head. “Well they’re interested; what did they say when they gave it to you?”

Jon laughed lightly, the boy in no place to answer questions. “Simone wasn’t there so Marcel gave it to him with the phone and said something like, ‘don’t worry if you’re not interested, Simone likes to assume things’,” he explained, patting his friend’s back soothingly.

“So they think you like them, which you do, and they both are interested in you, which is fantastic, so you have to go message one of them, or both, and tell them you are interested and see what happens!” Brock said, the entire group smiling and laughing. They were nothing less than happy for their friend who was still gaping like a fish and unable to understand what exactly had just happened. “What did you say before? ‘no one is poly’, hey?” he teased.

The boy shook his head. “I’m…” he muttered, no words to describe what was going on in his head. “I don’t…”

Suni giggled. “Don’t say anything, just let it sink in,” she cooed, playing with Lucas’ hair happily. “We don’t want you to implode or anything, now.”

He nodded slowly, provoking more giggles from his friends. Brock and Jon met eyes, little smiles being shared among them all. “Now we just have to get Lucas in with John, though I think John’s taking care of that himself…” Lucas raised a middle finger to Brock. “And,” he looked at Jon with a sweet smile, “Evan’s bound to sweep Jay, here, off his feet sometime today.”

Suni laughed. “So our jobs are done.”

“Pretty much,” Brian admitted.

“We still have to get Brian to realise who he’s gay for though,” Lucas mumbled into Suni’s arm.

The Irish boy frowned. “I’m not gay for anyone, you fuck.”

“Sounds fake but okay,” Scotty muttered, smiling innocently.

Brock hid his giggles and Jon rolled his eyes. Their shenanigans was all sweet and fun, never harmful or nasty. There was always an underlying love for one another, nothing able to change that in their group. It’s why he adored his friends so.

Before any other teasing could start up, Craig opened up the basket and pulled out a platter of fruits. “Let’s snack now before all the good shit starts playing,” he said, Lucas sitting up and the rest of them shuffling around to make more of a circle around the picnic basket and food. Craig smacked away reaching hands as he pulled off the gladwrap and tucked it into the side of the basket. Jon didn’t miss Brock playfully dropping purple grapes into Brian’s mouth, the two off in their own little world as the others chattered about Suni and Craig, and Alice and Riley.

Though they were all hilariously smart and very good at reading and understanding people, their tendency to be completely oblivious to things was as strong as ever.

Scotty spent a few minutes going through his phone and adding the two new numbers under the names: **Pretty Boy** and **Pretty Girl**. He paid no mind to what his friends were saying, only smiling to himself at the thought that _just maybe_ things were going to work out how he wanted them to and _just maybe_ running into Simone was the best idea he’d never planned.

 

 


	12. exhilaration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cant say much! will post this on tumblr tonight - i'm at my farm and i will be here for 11 days so no writing, limited reception, i'll update you guys later!  
> \- gi

**12.**

The festival was fantastic. The music, the people, the atmosphere. Brock loved it. They all did; smiles on their faces and laughter spilling from lips. The weeks of waiting paid off. More than ever, the seven of them were happy.

Brock was too. Overjoyed really. The place was radiating good vibes and seeing each of his friends with grins on their faces was enough to put a smile on his. But he really couldn’t help losing focus in conversation and zoning out with just how close he was sitting to Brian. For the third time, he found fingers clicking in front of his eyes and drawing his attention back to Earth.

“You sure you’re okay, Brock?” Craig asked and Lucas snorted. Suni grinned also. “Something seems to be really bothering you.”

He smiled, obviously unharmed and not upset in the slightest. His short attention span had nothing to do with him, but more-so to do with the Irish boy beside him. Brock’s crossed legs had one pretty much on top of Brian’s with how close he was sitting, his shoulder pressed against the back of Brock’s.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just distracted,” he laughed, avoiding Suni’s smirk.

“I bet you are,” she muttered, Lucas shoving her and making her giggle as she avoided his swatting hands.

Yes. He was extremely distracted. He liked Brian; that was clear to him (and most of their friends). He’d had a small crush on him for a long time, but over the last few weeks it had only grown stronger and no matter how oblivious the loud-mouth was, he _had_ to have figured it out. If not because of how long Brock had liked him, then from his daring actions the changing rooms the day before. The whole situation was powered by impulse and a whole lot of “fuck it” from the teen but thinking back, what he’d said, what he’d _asked_ of Brian made his face flush bright red.

Brock wasn’t daring. He wasn’t flirty, or smooth, or ‘sexy’. But he’d tested the waters with the Irish boy and found it was the _perfect_ temperature. No matter how silly his words were, they’d had their affect and Brock had been undeniably proud of how he’d gotten to the Irish boy.

A part of him actually wanted to talk about it though. Maybe say sorry? He wasn’t sure exactly. To be honest, he wasn’t sorry. He was quite glad he did it, even if it made him feel embarrassed. Seeing the shock and attraction in Brian’s eyes had ignited something in him. After finding out the boy was actually bisexual, it meant Brock had a slim chance. His impulse had almost confirmed that. Or at least, it told him that Brian was _at least_ attracted to him.

He just didn’t know how far that attraction stretched.

“Brocky?” Brian was looking at him curiously, his eyes sparkling as Brock glanced at him. They were close enough, he couldn’t bare holding eye contact. He was surprised Brian could still be so comfortable around him. But the nickname, the fond teasing, the close proximity; Brock was scared to think it meant something. “What’re you thinking about?” he asked, his voice soft enough to keep the conversation between the two of them.

_“I’ll buy it if you help me take it off in your bed.”_

Oh God, what _was_ he thinking about?

“Nothing, nothing,” he laughed, forcing anything that wasn’t nothingness out of his head. Brian looked unconvinced and Brock caught himself in the trap he was trying to avoid, locking eyes with the Irish boy. His face was twisted slightly, in curiosity, worry, something else? Brock couldn’t tell. His gaze dropped to Brian’s lips for half a second before he snapped it away and shifted. “Want to go check out the food trucks?” he offered and the flicker of confusion was accompanied by a light blush that dusted Brian’s face. “Awesome,” he settled, not waiting for the other’s answer as he stood and pulled him to his feet. “We’ll be back later!”

Their friends waved them off, Suni blowing Brian a kiss as the Irish boy followed in silence.

When they fell into step beside each other, Brian dug his hands into his pockets and Brock stared at the grass beneath his feet, feeling self-conscious again in his cropped-tee. He noted every odd look they received and felt himself get swallowed in the silence.

“You sure you’re all good?” Brian asked, sparing him a careful look and Brock met it with a shrug.

He was fine. He knew that. There wasn’t anything that was wrong, he just had a lot on his mind. Still, Brian didn’t seem to be done talking.

“I want you to be having fun today. We’re all here, we have good music, and you look…”—He cleared his throat and averted his eyes—“really good. I would hate for you to be so distracted you can’t even enjoy the festival.” His face was flushed slightly from then on, having caught himself mid-compliment as Brock smiled. He was wearing the same clothes he’d teased Brian with and pointing it out seemed to have reminded the teen of the specific event. Brock was glad to know it was still on his mind. “A-anyway! I want you to be as happy and comfortable as possible out here. I’m sure it’s not you you’re worried about because you seem genuinely happy, but I want you to know you can tell me anything. I might not be able to help but it might just be good to get it off your–”

“I like you.”

_Fuck._

Brian stopped walking. His gaze snapped back to Brock who stood still with wide eyes and red cheeks. His thoughts sped through his head too quickly to read them, and he found himself frozen and unable to do anything.

“P-pardon, sorry?”

He didn’t have the oxygen to repeat himself, instead biting his lip and looking down at Brian’s shoes. He nodded slowly, confirming his confession and accepting the imminent rejection.

“Can we, uh, go sit down somewhere?” Brian offered and Brock nodded again. His heart skipped a beat when fingers linked in his and he allowed himself to be lead past the trucks to where the lush green grass was sheltered and hidden by wide trees.

He sat down, eyes wide and thoughts still trying to process what exactly was going on as Brock sat in front of him, looking past the trees. He refused to look at him and Brian exhaled slowly. _I’m sorry. I don’t like you. You’re not my type. I like someone else._ Brock was just waiting for his thoughts to spill from Brian’s lips. Subconsciously, he began plucking the grass from the ground in front of him.

Brian sighed again, trying to find some sort of combination of words that would explain what he was feeling. “It’s… I’ve never really had a crush on anyone before. I’ve never really thought of them as a big deal and coming to terms with being… bisexual… is weird.” His words struggled to fall from his tongue. They were too big and awkward to fall together nicely and when Brock glanced up with disbelief written all over his face, he could see struggle in the Irish boy’s eyes. They lifted for a moment, just enough to acknowledge Brock’s attention, before returning to his crossed legs. “Mom and Dad fight a lot.” The statement was even more confusing, something random and abrupt, and Brock could see this was harder for Brian than he’d let himself believe.

Shyly, he reached forward and pulled one of Brian’s hands into his, linking their fingers loosely enough that the other could pull away if he wasn’t happy with it. It brought a smile to Brock’s face when he locked their fingers together tighter.

“Mom’s homophobic. I’m not out to them but she found out about you guys being queer and had a fit. I’ve been trying not to think about guys because of ‘er. I’ve tried to keep focus on girls. Y’know; get a girlfriend and bring ‘er home and Mom won’t ever have to know.” Brock’s heart sunk for his friend. The words broke through the box they’d been locked away in and one after the other they flooded from his system. Brock held his hand tightly and didn’t drop his gaze when Brian looked up at him. His lips twitched into a sad smile. “But here you are making that real difficult, Brocky.”

 The hand in his tightened, and Brock felt warmth tingle his fingertips. He couldn’t look away from the pale eyes and found emotions bubbling up in his lungs but no words for them to wear. He didn’t have time to.

“I like you, Brocky, I really do. As much as I tried not to, I do and I want to be able to call you my boyfriend. I don’t want to be scared of being with a guy, being with you. I might not be able to tell my mom but I don’t want to pretend I’m something I’m not.” The more he spoke, the easier it became. Each word fell from his lungs and the build-up became less and less. There was room to breathe again. He played with Brock’s fingers thoughtlessly. “I want to be with you.”

Brock could barely breathe. His smile grew enough that his cheeks ached and a weightless feeling filtered into his chest. “I don’t care if it means we don’t tell anyone, I don’t mind if you don’t want your family to know; I like you a lot and I want to be with you too.”

“Like… boyfriends?” Brian asked. His voice was timid and unsure and Brock knew exactly how he felt, but the happiness in his bloodstream didn’t let it push him back.

“If that’s what you want.” He found himself drowning in those soft eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

 _Boyfriend_. It seemed like such a weird title, such an odd label. ‘Brian’s boyfriend’ seemed even more unreal.

A silence of ‘what now?’ settled between and around them and Brock dropped his eyes to their interlocked hands. He felt oddly like a nine year old with his first boyfriend, the steps of a relationship unknown to him. A giddiness flushed his system at the same time as the feeling that he was hopeless and needed to do something.

“Does this mean I can kiss you then?”

Of all the things Brian could have asked, that wasn’t one Brock expected. He blinked with wide eyes and found himself blushing at the thought of Brian kissing him in different ways in different places. “I-I guess so?” he answered, not sure himself what was appropriate and when. He half-expected Brian to lean forward and kiss him then.

Instead he hummed and nodded in thought. “Okay.”

That same awkward silence lifted between them and Brock found himself stifling a giggle, lifting his free hand to his lips as he took in Brian’s flustered and thoughtful face. His scrunched brows and pinched pout. He looked so much like a child. Brock felt so much like a child. Everything felt young and stupid and very surreal; he couldn’t help letting out a laugh and pulling the hand in his to his chest as he folded forwards.

Brian’s grin couldn’t be hidden either, fondness and adoration filling his entire being at the other’s laugh. His love for the boy as a best friend was indescribable. They were so close, they got along so well. He loved Brock like he did Jon, and Craig, and the rest of their friends. But the feelings on top of that love for Brock were different to the others’ and whatever they were, they refused to let the smile leave his face.

He laughed quietly along with his boyfriend, holding his hand and running the pad of his thumb along the back of his hand. When Brock was able to collect himself, still flushed red and looking happier than ever, he helped him to his feet and allowed their linked hands to swing back and forth between them.

“Come on, we should probably grab something and get back to them or worry,” Brock said, laughter still round on his words. Brian nodded and they walked close, hiding their linked fingers between their hips. Brock stepped into him, playfully pushing him to the side. “Do we wanna tell them?” he asked and Brian felt those same feelings swell in his lungs.

Brock had nothing less than complete respect for what Brian was comfortable with and who he wanted knowing. With their friends? He didn’t want to hide it from anyone unless he knew he had to. “I’m pretty sure Suni and Lucas already know, Jon definitely knows, Scotty already thinks of himself as a third-wheel and Craig knows everything about everyone. We don’t even need to tell them,” he remarked and Brock nodded.

“You’ve got a good point. You sure you’re okay with it though?” He was ever-cautious.

He would never admit to almost falling on his face when Brian leant closer to him and pressed his lips to Brock’s cheekbone. The touch was almost terrified; unsure about himself, unsure about Brock, unsure about sexuality or relationships or boyfriends. But Brock couldn’t help leaning closer to him, loving the warmth that spread from where his lips touched, and squeezing his partner’s hand in reassurance. “Yes Brocky, I’m sure. If I’m not okay with something, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

They stopped to pay for a bucket of chips to share before walking back to their friends. Suni didn’t even look at them when they sat down, attention on her phone as she asked, “Are you guys gay yet?”

Brian shrugged and Brock noticed Scotty and Jon share a look. “Yeah.”

Suni took a moment to acknowledge that her joke was suddenly not a joke and sat bolt upright, clashing heads with her boyfriend whose lap her head had been resting in. Broth of them cried out in pain and Craig fell back with his hands over his forehead. Suni barely acknowledged the pain after resting a hand over one eye and turning to gape at the boys eating their chips. She stared them down for a second, Brian’s arm over Brock’s shoulders, the averted gazes and blushing cheeks, and grinned widely.

“Finally,” she exclaimed, laughing as the other boys nodded and offered soft smiles to their friends. “Two down, three to go!”

Smiles fell to confused frowns. “Huh?”

She smiled at Lucas and waved his questioning away before turning to her injured boyfriend.

Brock and Brian glanced at each other, the blushes on their cheeks burning brighter. They looked away. Scotty rolled his eyes, and Jon just smiled at the awkward air they wore. Of course it would vanish by the end of the day. The two boys were best friends and a new label was not strong enough to change that.

Lucas jolted upright as the music changed and a new artist’s voice flowed through the speakers. Jon and Suni grinned also. It was a band all three knew quite well and after a few beats of the song, Jon felt excitement course through him.

Suni stood. “Come on, come on! We have to go dance to this, I _love_ this song,” she pleaded, smile wide on her face. The two boys nodded, Lucas tripping in his haste to stand up.

“Have fun,” Brock called as the three hurried off, wanting to run to the crowd but not wanting to look like children.

They felt like children.

Soon enough though, they were linking hands, Suni holding onto Jon who was holding onto Lucas, and making their way through the people, winding around dancers and getting closer to the speakers where they found a small space to all fit into. Huddling in rather close due to the dense crowd, they all shared smiles as the music rattled through their bones and filled their lungs.

Suni belted out the words, screaming along with the people around them. The crowd’s noise was deafening, and the music was even louder but no amount of pain in his ears could wipe the smile off his face as the three of them danced and jumped around with absolutely no idea of how to actually look good. With no one to watch them, no one to judge them, they danced and laughed and screamed lyrics they’d heard before and didn’t pause for a second during the several songs that chased each other through the speakers around the stage.

Jon felt any tension in his muscles leave with his hysterics and took in all the happiness and excitement from the people around them. The atmosphere was perfect.

 _This is what we came for_ , he thought as the fifth song came to an end and Suni doubled over to gasp in deep breaths. Lucas couldn’t stop laughing, his smile brighter than ever. The three felt so weightless in the crowd and after stumbling between bodies and holding tight onto each other’s hands, they broke out of the crowd and collapsed to the grass. No words passed between them as they tried to catch their breath. Jon felt a headache swelling in his brain, his vision fuzzy as his chest heaved. Trying to get oxygen back to his brain had never been so difficult but at Suni’s breathy giggle, he fell back. They had all the time in the world.

“I love you guys,” Lucas claimed, grin bright and eyes sparkling.

Suni laughed, brows furrowed as she took in his words. “You sound high, have you been smoking something? Have you been talking to Tom and Steven again?” she accused and he laughed even harder.

Jon just smiled, hands on his chest. “I love you guys too.” He felt his body sway with each breath, his heart slamming against his chest.

Music was something he could drown in endlessly. Whether out loud, in earphones, headphones, from someone else’s lips or instrument. The music festival was an event he refused to ignore. Caught in the crowd, dancing, screaming, laughing; it was exhilarating. He loved that feeling more than anything.

His mouth opened to explain so but Lucas’ eyes were wide and staring and someone else was beside them. He turned to find John strolling up with a cigarette between his lips. He smiled at Jon and winked at Lucas. “Lookin’ a little out of breath?” he joked and they nodded, getting back to their feet.

Suni linked her arm around Jon’s and grinned at the other two. “Yeah definitely. Jonny and I are gonna go get a drink! You two have fun and enjoy the music!” The brunette didn’t fight her pulling at all, nodding at Lucas and smiling at John.

The Canadian glared at them as they hurried off but when they looked back, he and John was chatting nonetheless, and walking off away from the crowds. Suni smiled fondly. “Can’t wait for him to come back babbling about how _perfect_ John is,” she mused. Jonathon nodded. They made their way to the food trucks, eager to grab a drink saturated in sugar each. “And then once Evan comes by, steals you away from us and sweeps you off your feet, we’ll be hearing the same from you about him!”

He scoffed, not caring much for the prediction. Evan had his friends to hang out with. Jon had his. There wasn’t much of a reason for them to find each other and Jon didn’t want to get his hopes up to anything. “Uh-huh,” was all he gave and Suni rolled her eyes.

“You’re blind and stupid.” He let out a laugh, grin on his face unbothered by her jab. His mood was too high to be brought down and nothing was going to affect him.

He shrugged, but his teasing comment was cut off as an arm was thrown around his shoulder. Another was thrown around Suni’s and Anthony appeared between them, eyes bloodshot and grin wide. “Heyyyy,” he drawled, Jon laughing and Suni rolling her eyes. He blinked at her and winked awkwardly. “You’re cute. I like your face… It’s a shame I’m gay, honestly.”

Jon bit his lip to stop from giggling as she frowned at him. “It’s a shame I have a boyfriend too,” she agreed, sarcasm flying straight over his head as he nodded. She ducked out of his hold and avoided his arm when he lazily tried to sling it over her shoulder again.

He gave up after a few seconds, still nodding, but grinned at her comment. “Congratulations! I wish I had one of them…” His train of thought drifted and Suni shot a look at Jon as he continued to try to fight his amusement. She gave a half wave before easily backing off and escaping as Anthony dragged Jon onwards.

The shorter boy didn’t care to try and stop him, finding the Italian quite hilarious on top of being utterly ridiculous. He didn’t have an issue with him at all and they drifted towards a random truck.

“How’ve ya been, Jonny-boy?” he cooed, his arm falling back to his side as he dug his hands into his pockets.

Jon just shrugged but frowned curiously. “Fine, thanks. What did you say before about not having a boyfriend?” he asked. It was very obvious he and Steven got along… rather well. He’d just presumed the two were together in the first place and it was quite a shock that they weren’t.

Anthony giggled. “Sorry Jay-Jay, I wouldn’t do that to Evy-poo.”

It took Jon to acknowledge the stoner’s mistake and he shook his head. “No, oh my God. I don’t want to be your boyfriend. I meant-”

“Now that’s kind of rude,” Anthony huffed, pouting, and Jon reminded himself to never try to talk to the boy again when he was high off his face.

He couldn’t help his laughter though, asking for a can of fizzy drink and a bottle of water. He pushed the water into Anthony’s hands. “I _meant_ Steven; isn’t he your boyfriend?”

Anthony laughed like the statement was a joke and frowned at the boy when he realised Jon was serious. “Where in Hell did you get that idea? Me and Steven? No, definitely not. Why would you think so?” He looked genuinely curious and Jon rolled his eyes.

“So the guy you’re constantly flirting with, staring at, and making out with _isn’t_ your boyfriend?” He spoke as slowly and plainly as he could and Anthony stopped walking, blinking at his hands for a long few seconds.

When he looked back up, his eyes were filled with awe. “Maybe he _is_ my boyfriend.”

The timing was _incredible_ as the Canadian in question strolled up to them, ice cream in hand. He grinned at Jon, but his smile softened at the sight of Anthony. The Italian took a second to acknowledge who he was and Jon almost hit himself in the face as he took the ice cream from him, licked at it in thought for a few seconds before passing it back.

“Steven are we boyfriends?” he asked, sounding exactly like an eleven year old.

Steven blinked and his brows furrowed in confusion and slight distress. “I don’t know?” he whispered.

Anthony thought for another second before lighting up. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?” he gasped.

The look of confusion and panic broke to a wide grin. “I’d love to!” he chirped and curled his hand around the back of Anthony’s neck. He pulled them close and their lips fitted together like the most normal, casual thing in the world.

Jon just shook his head at the idiocy of the stoners. “Have fun, you guys,” he commented, receiving a cheerful hum in response as neither boy bothered to break the kiss. He didn’t complain, turning and walking away as he laughed to himself. Anthony was a character. Jon didn’t know him so well, but he was funny, light-hearted and ridiculously oblivious. The kid was harmless and Jon didn’t mind humouring him from time to time.

“Hey Flower Boy.”

He couldn’t deny that he picked Evan’s voice out too easily on his slow way back to his friends. His feet stopped almost automatically and he turned to the punk without any sort of hesitation.

It was crazy how just seeing him brought a smile to his lips. “Hi,” he breathed, Evan striking him once again as absolutely stunning. He wondered how warm the leather jacket he wore was and how soft it would feel beneath his fingertips.

Evan’s eyes danced over the ring of flowers that sat atop his messy hair and he felt shy at the little smile he wore. When Evan was close enough, the punk reached a hand out and brushed his fingers against Jon’s sleeve. The brunette felt heat at his cheeks at the fact that the first thing Evan did was touch him. “Having fun?” he asked, glancing at the stage with an amused smile. Jon nodded. “Walk with me?”

He nodded again, fighting the redness of his face and neck. “How are you?” He fell into step beside the punk and they started back towards where Evan was set up. They avoided people and their little camps, admiring the serenity of the park and hearing the beat pump from the speakers.

Evan hummed thoughtfully. “Things are good. This turned out to be better than we thought it would be.” His smile made Jon breathless and he hated how heavily his crush was falling. “I’m glad you’re here at least, I’ve been wanting to see you more.” Yup. Jon was head over heels.

Evan laughed softly and Jon’s breathless smile was aimed at his feet. “I’m glad you’re here too,” he forced out, feeling awkward and shy and flustered beyond everything. He really wasn’t the biggest smooth-talker. He wasn’t great with flirting, couldn’t give compliments too well, struggled with talking in general (especially to Evan); his overall social skills had a few rough edges.

But the little exhale of relief had his gaze drawn up to Evan who grinned at him. “Thank God,” he muttered, playfully bumping their shoulders together. “It’d suck if you weren’t and I’d been reading _everything_ wrong.” The joking was friendly, flirty and happy and Jon blushed bright red as the boy sat down on the small grassy hill. He looked up at Jon with that same cheeky smile and patted the ground beside him. “Wanna sit for a while?”

“S-sure.” The punk had admitted to reading into things, and apparently reading into them right… Reading into how Jon felt for him? Reading into their flirting? Reading into their almost-kisses?

 _Did he just admit he liked me?_ Thoughts darted back and forth through his head and he slowly sat himself down beside Evan. The punk seemed completely unbothered, pulling off his jacket in the warmth of the sun. Jon watched his fingers as they found the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, pulled one out and lit the end of it.

His dark eyes slid to Jon and he smiled with it caught between his teeth. “Want one?” he asked, amusement twinkling in his eyes as Jon seemed to study the object. He watched Evan breathe the smoke in and the little wisps that left his nostrils making it look like he had fire in his throat.

“Can I just try yours?” he asked, crossing his legs. He wasn’t afraid of smoking, nor was he desperate to try it. He knew the dangers of addiction and all that sort of thing but he was still curious. Evan just smiled, shifting closer to him so that Jon’s legs were squared against his which lay outstretched.

Breathing in once again, he pulled the cigarette from his lips and let the smoke waft from his mouth as he leaned forward and held it out to Jon’s lips. Cheeks still red, he allowed the rolled paper to be pushed between his lips and he tried to tear his eyes away from him when he didn’t move back.

He breathed the smoke in cautiously, letting it stain his mouth and tongue. With a smirk, he leaned closer to Evan before blowing it back into his face, the last of the grey wisps left his mouth with his giggling and coughing. The little laughter Evan let out had warmth glowing in his chest, and that warm lit aflame as he realised just how close they were.

The moment Evan’s vision cleared, his smile faltered and his gaze snapped down to Jon’s lips. They were so close. They were alone. All he could taste was smoke and his hair stood on end as the space between them lessened and calloused fingers slid around to settle on the top of his spine. Evan tilted his head, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. Jon’s eyes fluttered shut, Evan’s smoky breath washing over his lips…


	13. pulse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long! as an apology, its a bit longer than my usual length for chapters. i hope you guys enjoy!

**13.**

Jon was sure his heart was about to tear right through his chest. The hand on the back of his neck, fingertips forcing electric shocks down his spine. He didn’t know when or how but his own hand had found its way to Evan’s chest, the pulse beneath his palm light and quick.

He licked his lips and breathed out anticipation. There was nothing but the two of them together, close but not close enough, touching but not really, warm but not hot. Jon bunched up the fabric of Evan’s shirt under his fingertips. The proximity of Evan’s lips to his had a tingle washing over the soft skin. All he could smell and taste was smoke.

“Evan!” Déjà vu filtered into Jon’s system as he jerked back. He ripped his hand away from Evan’s chest as though it were red hot and turned to hide his boiling red face in his hands. “Evan! Where the fock did you go!?” David’s heavy accent bolted ahead of him as he and Simone strolled over the grassy hill to where they could see the two boys.

Two moments passed where Jon breathed in and out, heartbeat the only thing he could hear and shock the only thing he felt. Reflexively, his knees rose halfway to his chest and he refused to look anywhere but the rolling hills of grass behind him.

Evan’s head hung, eyes closed with frustration and disbelief. A hatred for his friends seemed to pool in his gut and he couldn’t get rid of the tingling feeling that stained his fingertips. Jon leant back and kept his red face hidden from the boy he’d been only a hair away from kissing. Embarrassment, disbelief, irritation; the whole world was conspiring against him. Brian, David, his mom. Every time- every _single_ time, he was always _so close_ to kissing Evan Fong and _something_ had to interrupt them.

As the other two drew close, Simone’s eyes widened and she stopped in her path. She curled both hands around David’s arm and pulled him to a stop beside her. Being able to see the scene before them, she realised what they’d interrupted. “Daithi, let’s talk to Evan later! I need to ask Marcel something anyway and you should come with me.” She stumbled over excuses as Jon peaked through his fingers to meet her eyes but the Irish boy remained completely oblivious to her haste.

“You can ask ‘im later,” he huffed, pulling her forward still. He smiled brightly at Evan and spared the same grin to Jon. “Hey guys, Tyler brought snacks back. Ye should come now ‘cause they’ll be gone in less than three minutes.”

Simone pulled at his arm again. “Daithi!” she hissed between clamped teeth. Her distress was evident and Evan just shook his head at her with a defeated smile.

“We’ll come back in a bit,” Evan suggested but he knew it was futile as the Irish boy laughed.

“No, c’mon. Let’s all go together! Ye can come too, Jay.”

Jon couldn’t believe this guy regarded himself as a punk. He’d seemed intimidating at first with his blank stares and lanky height. But after speaking so cheerfully and smiling so brightly, he just looked like a teddy bear. He couldn’t believe how oblivious one guy could be.  

Evan sighed heavily and rubbed his face with one hand. Jonathon could see the defeat in his dark eyes when they met his and didn’t miss the way they lingered on his lips hopelessly. The Canadian boy stood and helped Jon up with a hand in his and a gentle touch to his shoulder. When David was satisfied the two were following, he turned, happy grin pulling at the black stud above his lip, and lead the way back towards the festival’s crowds.

Simone hesitated a moment, falling into step on the other side of Jon who smiled shyly at her. She was pretty and the boy couldn’t help but find her daunting. The way her face melted with sympathy though had his anxiety wavering and he didn’t find it uncomfortable at all to be walking between her and Evan.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, the Irish boy completely oblivious to the three of them other than the occasional glance he sent over his shoulder to check that they were still following. “He can be rather daft.”

Jon smiled, fear for the girl giving way to appreciation at her kind eyes. “Don’t worry about it.” He jumped as fingers slid down the inside of his wrist and linked with his. Any other words he had to offer were stolen as he fought back the redness in his cheeks. Simone blinked curiously and a smile crawled onto her lips when she realised the source of his fluster. Thankfully, she said nothing of it and glanced away to give the boy some space.

He couldn’t focus on anything other than the hand in his. Evan’s fingers were gentle but the fingertips that rested on his knuckles were calloused. He held Jon’s hand loosely, always offering the option to pull away if he chose to. The brunette knew he wouldn’t take that offer.

“You’re friends with Scotty, right?” Simone’s voice wedged itself into his thoughts and he looked to her. Her eyes followed her own hands as she twisted the rings on her fingers. Jon blinked curiously and nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, Scott’s a good friend of mine.”

She hummed in thought, nodding. “Tell me about him.” The statement was more of a demand than a suggestion.

Maybe Jon couldn’t get rid of his fear for the girl completely… “He’s, uh, he’s cool?” he offered uselessly and the girl blinked at him dully. Flushing in embarrassment, he rubbed at his cheek with his spare hand. “He’s funny. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him upset or angry, unless we’re playing Mario Kart.” Her blank look melted away and her gaze drifted out over the crowds now in view. He continued, a smile on his face. “He’s also super kind. Really thoughtful. Very sweet when it matters. He acts tougher than he is and pretends he doesn’t care but he really does.”

She nodded and he noticed that his friends could be seen across the park from where they walked. Following her gaze, he realised she too was watching his group. They watched from afar as Craig and Brian wrestled on the grass, Scotty and Suni cheering and egging them on. Craig took the Irish boy to the ground and Scotty jumped to his feet, laughing and shouting something inaudible. Suni jumped on top of the two boys and Scotty doubled over, laughing.

“He’s a pretty boy, that’s for sure.” Jon raised his eyebrows at her comment as she pretended to study her nails. He didn’t miss the cheeky glint in her eyes.

“Aren’t you and Marcel together?” he asked. He didn’t mean to be rude or intrusive, yet he couldn’t help but be curious. Her behaviour was suggestive and he would have done anything to know what was going on in her head.

Her laugh was melodic and he knew his question sounded rather stupid. His train of thought fizzled out as Evan squeezed his hand, locking their fingers together tightly. The taste of smoke on his tongue still lingered and he struggled to pay attention to his conversation with the girl beside him. He had to mentally kick himself out of his daze when she began speaking again. “We are, yes, but we’re both polyamorous. We think Scott’s cute too, but Marcel insists that the chances that he’s poly are too small,” she explained and he bit back his grin. The situation couldn’t have been more perfect. “He thinks that he’s just got the hots for me, but he couldn’t stop blushing around Marcel when we talked earlier. He could barely look him in the eye!

“He likes one of us, I’m sure of that; I just hope it’s both. I got Marcel to give him both of our numbers so hopefully he’ll text one of us.” She trailed off.

He knew he probably shouldn’t say anything for Scotty. The boy would be able to speak for himself. But he couldn’t help the happy smile that crawled onto his face as he said, “I think you might end up hearing from him soon.”

Her eyes widened as they reached the rest of her group. “What?”

He shrugged, pursing his lips in refusal to give away any other information. She didn’t seem to need it as a grin pulled at her piercings. Her gratitude shone in the soft brown eyes and she stepped away from him, walking up to Marcel instantly. He pulled her close with an arm around her waist and Jon looked away as she pressed a kiss to his lips, transferring her grin to his face also.

The fingers in his pulled away and his attention returned to the punk beside him. His smile faltered. Evan didn’t want to hold his hand in front of his friends? Before he could really think it through though, the punk rested an arm over his shoulders instead and pulled him tightly to his side. A mixture of relief, happiness and embarrassment filtered into his blood and a redness rose to his cheeks as Tyler and John glanced at them. Tyler rolled his eyes and John’s lips just lifted slightly in a smile.

“Want to eat with us?” Evan asked him, the flowers on Jon’s head tickling his cheek and lips. At the small nod, the punk smiled and pulled away to sit down. The moment Jon was seated on the grass, the arm was replaced around his shoulders and he couldn’t help but relax against Evan’s side.

John threw a bag of potato chips at the two of them.

“So what, are you two dating now?” Tyler asked, taking a burger from the several that were stacked on a plate in front of them. His blue eyes pushed Jon’s down and the brunette felt like he was almost hiding under Evan’s arm. His face burned red at the attention from the rest of them. It was clear none of them actually gave a shit – there was just nothing else to do.

The Canadian only laughed though, the question not flustering or bothering him at all. “Why are you so interested?”

Tyler scoffed. “I’m not,” he bit back, eyes narrowed as Evan reached over and grabbed a burger for himself and another for Jon. The tallest of the group crossed his arms and rolled his eyes again, very easily irritated by Evan’s teasing. “You just look like you are, all cuddly and gross.”

“Why do you care?” Once again, he didn’t bat an eye at the curious prodding.

And once again, Tyler glared defensively. “I don’t.” As though being interested meant he wasn’t that big, intimidating punk. Jon bit back his smirk but found himself comfortable against the Evan and away from Tyler’s analytical stare. He caught Simone’s eye and returned the genuine little smile she offered him, taking a bite of the burger Evan handed him.

It was nice to feel comfortable within the group of punks, and he found the contrast amusing with his brightly coloured clothes and their leather and silver. It was everything his friend group wasn’t and it made him happy that he wasn’t unwelcome.

“Why don’t you date someone?” Simone asked, shooting her question towards the blue-eyed giant.

He regarded her with a raised eyebrow and a sarcastic laugh. “Dating is gay.”

John rolled his eyes. “Tyler. Half of us are gay.”

“Exactly.” He shrugged. “That shit’s boring anyway. I don’t want some needy girlfriend who texts me every day and wants to fuckin’ cuddle ‘n’ shit.”

Marcel nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s just too gay.” He dragged his words out, heavy with sarcasm and mocking.

“Shut the fuck up,” Tyler offered, too lazy to actually put bite into his words.

The black boy just rolled his eyes, his friend too difficult to bother with, and John smirked, laughter dancing in his eyes. “You’re dumb enough to rival with David’s stupidity.” He put his vape pen between his lips and brushed his hair out of his face.

Insult flared behind Tyler’s frown and David ‘hmph’ed in irritation. “Fock off,” the Irish boy spat but his attention remained on his phone. His care for the conversation was limited.

“Why don’t you date someone then, fuckboy?” Tyler fired, John’s smirk widening at the irritation he’d provoked.

John was completely unfazed by the rebounded question. Unlike Tyler, he let out a small laugh. His question was answered for him. “He’s got the hots for Jay’s friend… Luke?” Evan glanced down at Jon for conformation.

“Lucas.” He took another bite to hide his smile as John studied him for a second, Tyler forgotten momentarily.

“I gotta ask; is he terrified of me and is just too scared to say no, or does he actually like me because I swear I can’t tell.” The blonde boy’s words drifted in the air with his smoke.

Laughter filled Jon’s lungs as he realised the boy was completely serious. Lucas was so awkward and star-struck, John thought he was legitimately scared of him. He lifted a hand to hide his giggling and shook his head. “All I’ll say is that he’s scared of you, but in a good way.” He didn’t want to say too much, the same way he didn’t want to with Simone, but he wasn’t opposed to giving them a small push in the right direction.

Though still slightly confused, John nodded and smiled. Tyler let out another huff, rolling his eyes. “You guys are gay,” he commented.

“No fuckin’ shit Sherlock.” John shot back.

Evan rested his cheek against Jon’s temple as his friends continued to squabble, arguing about relationships and whether they were “gay” or not, and whether Tyler was stupid or dumb. The brunette’s heart raced as he felt lips press a kiss above his ear. “Are you scared of me in a good way?” Evan asked, lips moving against the side of the pastel boy’s head. Blue eyes squinted with a smile.

The question was mostly a joke, but the hint of serious curiosity that lay beneath his tone did not go unnoticed. Wondering if Jon was “scared” of Evan. He tilted his head up slightly, Evan pulling back enough that he could see the little smile on Jon’s lips. “How could I be scared of you? You’re Canadian!” He poked the punk’s ribs teasingly and didn’t flinch as the muscled arm dropped from his shoulders to his waist. A hand rested on his bare hip. “You couldn’t be scary if you tried.” He felt his voice weaken as his freckled cheeks glowed. His joking wasn’t strong enough to push through the butterflies that fluttered around in his insides.

He tried not to shiver at the skin-on-skin contact and turned his face into Evan’s shoulder to avoid the curious gaze of the punk. He seemed to almost assess Jon’s reactions and as much as he loved it, every touch only helped the pastel boy’s crush grow bigger and bigger. As much as Jon couldn’t get enough of Evan’s eyes on him, his fluster was too obvious and he was hopeless at hiding it.

“Not even a little bit scared of me?” he asked, words soft and teasing; separated from those around them. The two were locked away in their own little word, pressed up against each other, close enough to kiss if they wanted, but fully aware that neither of them would. The longing wasn’t strong enough in front of the others in their circle and there was the hanging thought that they’d have time for themselves, and just themselves, later.

Jon shrugged, leaning heavy against Evan and turning to look across the park away from him. It was easier to hide his blushing that way. He hummed slightly. “Maybe just a tiny little bit,” he admitted, the hand on his hip reaching around his front. At Evan’s silence, he tilted his head back. He glimpsed the smile on the punk’s lips and noticed the little silver stud on the side of his nose for the first time.

He flinched slightly at the lips that brushed a feather-light kiss against his forehead and couldn’t fight the widening of his smile. Every moment he spent with Evan he felt like he was floating.

“Are ye lovebirds done makin’ out yet?” David’s voice broke the bubble they’d encircled themselves in and Jon’s cheeks flushed rosy red at the several pairs of eyes that settled on them.

Despite his embarrassment however, Evan’s hold on him only tightened and the punk pressed their cheeks together playfully. Jon could feel the pressure of the smile on his crush’s face and knew that there was nothing more infectious. “No need to get jealous, _Nogla_ ,” Evan teased, and Jon marvelled at the fact that nothing seemed to make Evan frown or grumble or blush.

David’s stare sharpened. “No.” He turned away, pulling out a lighter and taking a cig from the pack Simone offered to him.

“No?” Evan urged and earned a glare from the black-haired boy. He just laughed, holding up a hand. “Alright, alright, chill out,” he waved off, eyes falling back to Jay’s red face. “Want to come dance, Flower Boy?” _Let’s get away from people. Let’s go be with us, just us._

Jon was halfway through agreeing when his phone started vibrating in his back pocket. His blue eyes melted apologetically as he pulled it out and answered it.

“Yo Jonny-boy, where the fock did ye get to? Brock wants to know where ye ran off to and Suni’s about to fight Lucas for breaking ‘er earphones.” Brian’s voice floated through the speaker and Jon closed his eyes.

 _I swear to God_ … “Can’t you guys handle yourselves for five minutes?” he muttered, trying to ignore the little circles Evan’s index finger was drawing along his hipbone.

Brian laughed. “Nope. Scotty also needs someone new to ramble to about his life problems and we’re all already sick of him. Get your gay ass back here, you can blow Evan later. – Oh fuck, Craig I swear if you throw that on me, I will fuck you up s-“ Jon hung up on the boy with a heavy sigh. He knew if he didn’t go back to his friends they’d set out to find him and drag him away themselves.

 _Fucking Irish people…_ he thought to himself. David and Brian were just as bad as each other.

He lifted his face slightly, meeting patient dark eyes with disappointed baby blues. “Our friends have awful timing…” he muttered.

Evan’s smile was unbothered and Jon felt his insides melt. “You gotta go?” At his nod, the punk tightened his arm around him for a long moment. “No worries.” There was no hint of annoyance, no irritation or decline in attitude in the slightest.

“I’ll find you later?” Jon asked, not even trying to hide the hopefulness in his tone.

Evan’s smile had the butterflies fluttering around at double speed and Jon sucked up his courage, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to Evan’s cheek. The punk closed his eyes in response, and his genuine smile exposed white teeth. Jon swayed forward an inch, impulse pointing his focus to Evan’s soft lips but common sense pulled him back.

The punk’s arm remained locked around him for another long few seconds before he eased away and allowed the shorter boy to stand and brush his jeans off. He fixed his crown, held out a soft lopsided smile out to Evan, and turned to walk back around the stage to where his friends were seated.

The second the brunette was out of sight, Simone whipped around to David. “Are you deaf and blind? Because up until now I just assumed you were plain dumb. But this? Now this just seems unrealistic!” she rambled. Marcel held her on his lap by her hips, knowing his girlfriend wouldn’t refrain from crawling over to the Irish idiot and hitting him over the head.

David just rolled his eyes and took a drag from his cigarette. Evan ran his hands through his hair.

“They were about to _kiss_ , Daithi! Their first kiss!” she hissed and the Canadian blushed against the palms of his hands.

David shrugged, resting back against a bag. “I don’t fockin’ care. They can bang somewhere else,” he dismissed before shooting the bag of chips by Evan’s feet a longing look. “If ye aren’t gonna open that, chuck it here.” 

When Jon returned to his friends, Brian was wearing Craig’s entire bottle of water and Suni was wheezing uncontrollably on the grass with Brock hovering in concern. He pretty much collapsed on their picnic blankets and didn’t remove his hands from his face for ten minutes while his friends sorted themselves out and returned to the spaces around him.

“Did Brian fuck something up again?” Scotty asked at one point, receiving an offended “Hey!” from the mentioned Irish moron. When Jon nodded, Brian pouted and crossed his arms. “Did you kiss?” He shook his head and Suni pushed a water bottle into his hands.

She patted his arm lightly. “We’ll go back and dance in a bit – get some food into you and drink some water.”

He nodded. “You should hear what Lucas managed,” Craig said. The mentioned boy hung his head and the brit giggled. “He didn’t even look at John the whole time they walked and when he actually spoke, he didn’t really make sense…”

“I said ‘Go with-out me?’ instead of ‘Go out with me?’ in the middle of him talking and I think he thinks I don’t like him.” He spoke to his hands as Brock rubbed his knee sympathetically. His head fell back, pouting up at the sky. “Why can’t I just be able to talk to him?”

Jon hummed softly. “I talked to him. And Simone actually.” Scotty and Lucas both looked to him as he sat up and reached for a peach. “I told John you weren’t actually terrified of him for a bad reason. And”—he glanced at Scotty—“you should definitely message Simone or Marcel.”

Lucas’ pout formed a small smile and Scotty grinned, turning his phone over in his hands as he thought. Brock met Jon’s eye and winked. Though they’re friends were loud, annoying and obnoxious, the little smiles of personal happiness and content was all they ever wanted for each other.

Song after song played through the park. Brian, Craig and Scotty left to go play with a Frisbee away from everyone else. Lucas, Suni, Brock and Jon lay around on blankets lazily, watching the clouds paint over the sky.

“That one looks like a ballerina.” Brock raised his index finger to point vaguely at the clouds above them. The other three twisted their heads, squinting to try and pick out which collection of white fluff Brock was referring to.

“No, no, no, it looks like a guitar! See, if you look at it from this way…” Suni explained, twisting her hands in the air outstretched above her as the other boy listened intently. “That’s the neck and… there’s the neck strap…”

Jon watched the wisps of glowing white drift across the endless ceiling of blue. The sun spread warmth over his bare tummy and face. The day was perfect.

“No way, that part’s her tutu, it’s just a transparent one, see? There are her arms above her head!” Brock argued.

“Oh!” Jon interrupted, pointing up at a different cluster of white. “That one looks like a teddy-bear!”

“Fuck off, it does not,” Suni said. “What kind of bear head is that?”

“He has a Mohawk, leave him alone.” Jon pouted.

“I mean it _kind of_ looks like one?” Brock earnt a disappointed glare.

Lucas snorted, shaking his head at the childishness of his friends. Sitting up, he squinted at the “teddy-bear” cloud. “Holy shit, if you look at it from this angle… It looks like a…- Oh my God, it looks like a cloud!” he shrieked.

Three pairs of eyes turned to him, flat glares finding no amusement whatsoever in his mocking joke. He just grinned, amused at himself as he lay back down with his hands behind his head.

“Dick,” Brock muttered and he giggled.

“You guys are children.”

“At least we have imagination.” Jon gazed up at his Mohawk-bearing teddy-bear.

Lucas pulled a face and Jon poked his tongue out at him.

“If I lie here any longer, I’m gonna fall sleep. Let’s do something,” the brunette whined. He rubbed his blue eyes and sat up with a determined look set in his pout.

Brock sat up also, running his hands through his short hair as Suni yawned. “Want to dance?” he offered and Jon gazed out to the crowd. It was significantly larger compared to the morning when they’d arrived and the mid-afternoon music was louder and better. He nodded and Brock grinned. “You two wanna come?”

Suni shook her head while Lucas shrugged and nodded. “I’ll go find the boys,” she said and brushed her skirt down as she stood. “Don’t have too much fun without me.” She winked over her shoulder and the three boys didn’t wait to see her off.

They giggled their way over to the crowd. With every step, excitement built up between them with the music. By the time they were winding through the crowd, they were already swinging their heads and grinning like never before. Finding as much space as they could, they crowded in together and danced alongside the people all around them, faces they didn’t know, faces that didn’t know them.

Jon’s heartbeat stopped, replaced by the pulse of the music. It pushed all the thoughts from his mind the same way it urged the blood through his veins. He didn’t even remember breathing in the crowd, unable to stand anywhere without being in contact with at least three other people. It was as though the music had taken over his body completely, feeding him oxygen, stealing away his worries; all that was on his mind was the music and the two boys he loved so dearly dancing with him.

Shouts were barely audible, voices were lost singing, everything was warm and buzzing and carefree.

Jonathon didn’t know when exactly it happened but he found himself beside Evan, Brock and Lucas vanishing with matching Cheshire cat grins as the punk’s hands on his hips stopped him from falling. The familiar handsome face, soft eyes and bright smile. Stud on his nose glimmering. Their cheeks almost touched with how close he leaned in. “Fancy seeing you here!” The shout had a grin lighting up Jon’s face and he couldn’t help but swing his hips from side to side beneath Evan’s hold. Their faces remained close as the crowd around them reduced their personal space.

Jon couldn’t look away from the pretty dark eyes. “You like this music?” he shouted and Evan nodded eagerly, allowing himself to mimic Jon’s limited dancing. The shorter boy scoffed. “You can dance better than that!” The teasing grin on his face had Evan’s brows pinching with a smirk. Laughter replaced Jon’s oxygen as he watched the punk dance over-dramatically, exaggerating every move and swinging himself left and right.

He lifted his hands to his mouth to hide the face-hurting grin he wore, blue eyes sparkling with nothing less than pure happiness. The few moments of dramatic dancing came to an end with the song and Evan’s shoulders dropped as he laughed too at his own silliness. His laugh was breath-taking and Jon just told himself he would give up breathing any day to hear it.

“Why are you doing that?” the punk asked, voice still straining to be heard above the next song. He reached up and pulled Jon’s hands down away from his wide grin. “Don’t hide your smile, I love seeing you so happy!” Those hands locked with his and Jon hoped that the redness of his face was assumed to be because of the crowd. Before he could respond to the compliment, eyes dropping in slight embarrassment at smiling so big and looking so goofy in front of the boy, his hands were being pulled and pushed back and forth.

He watched the smile on Evan’s face as he was twisted left and right against his will. His laugh overflowed in his lungs, floating in bubbles between them as he jumped around on the spot with the punk. He forgot about the people pressing against his back, he forgot about the space that was expected to stay between two friends, he forgot about the clamminess of his hands intertwined with Evan’s. He just sung, danced and laughed, finally happy to be with the boy without needing to worry about being interrupted.

Time no longer existed as they danced. For a long time Evan refused to let go of Jon’s fingers, swinging him around, pushing him away and pulling him back, twirling him under an arm; no matter how many times one hand let go, it always found its partner again and there was never a moment where the smile left either of their faces.

The music was perfect. Loud, powerful and never slowing. A constant beat let them dance without restraint and any worries about looking dumb or being judged left his skin with the thin layer of sweat. Jon found himself filled to the brim with happiness and only happiness. No worry. No fear. No thought of anything else.

It was him and Evan dancing, fingers locked, eyes never looking anywhere but each other. They breathed in the music and exhaled joy. His excitement never paused. Not even when he realised Evan’s eyes had dropped to his lips, watching him sing along to the music here and there, watching him grin and laugh and breathe. He tried to read the thoughts going through his brain as those pretty brown eyes flickered up to analyse his, flickered up to see what he was thinking.

And when Jon risked a glance to Evan’s parted lips there was no way he would be thinking about anything else other than how he’s always been just short of reach, just short of time, just short of courage. But it was just them, and the music, and Evan’s hands weren’t in his anymore, they were curling around his hips, fingers resting on bare skin; hot skin.

Yet he could still see hesitation in Evan’s eyes, glimmering where it shouldn’t be, where it didn’t need to be. A worry that lay beneath the perfect atmosphere, one Jon had left behind when stumbling through the crowd of people in the first place. He didn’t know when they got there but his hands were at Evan’s shoulders. They breathed the same air as Jon curled his fingers around the lapel of the leather jacket, as his other hand lingered at the side of Evan’s neck.

He realised he didn’t care for hesitation and worry and knew Evan was watching as he grinned wide and happy. “Are you going to kiss me or are you going to wait for someone to come in and ruin this for us again?” His words were still shouted. Loud enough to be heard but soft enough to be encouraging and not enforcing. Words of “I want this too” and “no, you’re not reading this wrong” and “for fuck’s sake, just kiss me”.

The look of surprise, and thought, and lingering hesitation all melted at once, a smile flickering across Evan’s lips. The hands on his hips pulled him close and his fingers tightened around the leather. Their lips met with a breath of “ _finally_ ” and all Jon could think was that it was more perfect than he could have ever asked for.

Evan’s lips were soft and giving, burning hot against Jon’s. He pulled back half an inch for just a moment, eyes opening just slightly to take in Jon’s fluttering lashes and pink lips, the freckles dancing across his face to the music that pulsed around them. They both breathed for a second before Evan’s hand was cupping Jon’s cheek and tilting his head up. He pushed their lips together again, confidence and excitement flaring in the heat beneath his fingertips.

Jon tasted smoke. He was enveloped in heat, burning the skin of his cheek and his hip beneath hands holding him right where he wanted to be. It was everything he’d wanted. Without Brian. Without David. Without any of their friends to get between them. It was perfect. The lips against his knew what they were doing, his tongue tasted his bottom lip with enough pressure to make the butterflies in his stomach fizzle up and explode.

He understood how the taste of smoke could become so addicting. He understood too well and knew that if every cigarette between his teeth tasted like Evan’s lips, he would fall victim to addiction also.

Teeth nipped at his bottom lip, sending electricity through his capillaries, and their kiss broke between them with a sigh leaving his lips. “Shit,” he breathed, Evan’s forehead resting against his as he breathed deep into his lungs. His heartbeat slammed in his ears, racing the pulse of the music surrounding them and when he managed to pull his eyes open, they met Evan’s with a grin he didn’t bother to hide. The punk mirrored his expression and after a few more seconds of heavy breathing he dropped his hand to Evan’s, interlocking their fingers and stepping away. He flicked his head in acknowledgement, not at all trusting his voice to shout, and pulled Evan after him as he wound through people out away from the stage.

When they broke out of the crowds, Jon couldn’t stop himself as he turned back to Evan and pressed their lips together once again. The punk caught himself, face going pink as he felt the older boy suck his bottom lip gently between his teeth. When their lips parted, he grabbed Evan’s wrist, thankful for the pen he had tucked away in the back pocket of his jeans. The Canadian blinked himself out of his daze as his wrist was released and two hands held his head still for a final kiss to be pressed to the hollow of his cheek.

He gave the punk a few seconds to follow what happened and to acknowledge the numbers on his arm. Their fingers remain linked loosely between them and Jon can still taste smoke on his tongue.

“That was…” Evan didn’t seem to have any description to excuse his flushed cheeks and wide eyes but the way Jon’s eyes crinkled with his giggle told him the other boy understood completely. “I’ll call you,” he promised and Jon nodded eagerly.

The brunette squeezed the fingers linked with his before breaking the hold and taking a reluctant step back. “Enjoy the rest of the festival, Evan,” he said, licking his lips in a weak attempt to stop from grinning so much. He couldn’t rid his chest of the indescribable happiness and wondered why he was even trying to in the first place.

“Thanks Flower Boy, I will.” Yes, that happiness was going nowhere.


	14. text messages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is only short ^^

**14.**

“You’re lying!” Suni shrieked, grabbing his face. She was the only one at their camp when Jon made his way back. He was seated for a solid four seconds before he’d blurted out the fact that he’d just kissed Evan Fong. Her hands squished his face, staring with wide eyes. “Just then!?” He nodded, finding it difficult to move his head at all. “What happened!?”

He shrugged, cheeks still rosy and lips tingling. “I athked him i’ he wath gonna kith me tho he did,” he said, a temporary lisp dousing the hissed sounds of his words. She gaped in awe as he added an afterthought of: “It wath magica’.”

Her dropped jaw morphed into a grin and the girl released his face and threw her arms around him instead, half falling on top of him in her unbalanced excitement. “I’m so proud of you!” she squealed and he laughed with her. He couldn’t help lifting his fingertips to his lips, brushing over them softly. The feeling of Evan’s on them was fresh but fast-fading and the strong thought of, ‘guess we just gotta kiss again soon’ had his grin returning.

“The guys are going to give you so much shit,” she giggled, pulling herself up and plopping down with crossed legs just in front of him.

“Why are we gonna give him shit?” A frisbee hit the back of Jon’s head lightly, Scotty’s almost silent “yesss” earning the boy a weak glare. All focus directed to the oldest of their group who was blushing just at the thought of what had happened. They all sat themselves down, offering the two already-seated members of their group drinks they gladly accepted. “What happened, huh JayJay? Did ye trip over and suck Evan’s dick?”

He shook his head but his silence stopped the giggling.

“Wait; something important happened,” Lucas stated, studying Jon’s nervous face closely.

“Wemight’veaccidentlypossiblykissedidon’tknow…” He jammed his words together, Suni falling back with excited giggles as she clapped her small hands. When he looked up he met blinking eyes of confusion. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. “He kissed me?” It was like he was asking his friends if that was the right answer.

There were three seconds of complete silence and each boy displayed a different reaction to the news. Scotty leapt up onto his feet, Craig throwing his fists in the air as the two of them and Brian hollered obnoxiously loudly. Brock stayed statue still, hands cupped over his mouth with eyes wide and sparkling. Lucas launched himself at Jon, falling on top of him and exclaiming loudly with excitement that it was his plan all along to ditch the two together.

“You sexy beast, Jonathon!” Brian roared, Scott and Craig laughing and whooping excitedly. “Get _in_ , lad!”

“Fucking asshole, knew you had it in you,” Craig added, and Lucas laughed openly into the palms of his hands.

Jon hid his own face in his hands, grin unrestrainable at the excitement of all his friends around him. He couldn’t expect anything less than this level of hysteria, and he knew there was no limit to the excitement they could all throw between each other.

“I gave him my number,” he mumbled into his wrists and Lucas gasped, pulling Jon’s hands down to look his friend in his pretty blue eyes.

“You did what?”

“I wrote my number on his wrist,” he repeated, pulling out the pen for evidence as Suni pretended to faint on the grass.

“Jonathon is getting gonna get so much dick, oh fuck.” Scotty howled with laughter as the pen was launched at his face. No one acknowledged Craig fetching the instrument and dropping it in Jon’s flower crown as he walked past to sit down.

As much as they gave him shit for it, the way Jon plucked the pen from his head and slipped it back into his pocket, it was clear he didn’t particularly want to throw it away. The little red pen spilt ink nicely over paper and skin, he didn’t want to lose it before and he definitely didn’t want to lose it after that.

“I can’t believe our baby boy is finally growing up and getting laid,” Brian sobbed dramatically into Scotty’s shoulder, the boy playing along and patting his friend’s back soothingly.

Jon pulled the crown of flowers off his head, burying his red face in it. His friends were overdramatic and extremely obnoxious when they wanted to be. They had no awareness of the stares they received for crying and carrying on, they had no care for whoever was present when they went off.

He couldn’t rid his face of its blush until the rest of his friends had collapsed with exhaustion and excitement, begging for details about the _extremely_ romantic moment he’d shared with the punk. They teased and poked fun relentlessly as he recounted little things. Brian lost his shit when he told him what he’d said to the punk. That was until Suni reminded him that he was the reason it took them so long to finally kiss.

Once they’d exhausted him of all the important details, Brock asked him what he was going to do from there. He didn’t get a chance to answer though as his phone vibrated in his pocket.

-

**Sunday, 16:21.**

**Evan - > Jay**

**Evan:** hey its evan

 **Evan:** you probably know that…

 **Evan:** heres my number so you have it on your phone too

 **Evan:** in case you wanted it

 **Evan:** for something

 **Jay:** thanks evan

 **Jay:** :) <3

 **Evan:** <3

-

Jon blinked, hearing Suni ask something but not understanding her words. “Huh?” he asked, blushing at the giggles of his friends.

“Who are you texting?” she asked, voice soft and teasing. The smirk on her face told him she already knew and he rolled his eyes, glancing at his phone one more time before going to put it away. Before he could, she leaned over and snatched it from his hand. He went to snatch it back but Lucas stopped him, grinning as they waited. “Aw, he sent you a heart? You’re adorable, _Jay_ ; too cute!”

“Sh-shuch up,” he stuttered, blushing more as his friends laughed even louder and cooed over his stumble. “Shut up!” he corrected, swatting at Scotty as he tried to pinch his cheeks. “Fuck off, you assholes. Give it back.” Suni complied with a giggle, her job done.

He snatched it up and put it back in his pocket, grumbling about his friends beneath his breath.

Evan put his own phone in his pocket as he returned to his friends, waving away the lighter David offered him as Simone raised her brows. She was panting slightly, herself and Marcel looking out of breath. He assumed they’d both been dancing also and he guessed he looked rather similar.

“You look happy,” she commented and he shrugged.

John studied him for a second, the Canadian licking his lips as he tried to lessen his grin. A small smile crawled onto the blonde’s face. “You kissed him?”

He couldn’t help the breathy laugh that left his lips as he nodded, and David rolled his eyes. Tyler was absent but he knew the other boy would have given him shit for it too had he been there. He ran a hand through his hair.

“Did you kiss him or did you _kiss_ him?” Simone asked, wiggling her brows teasingly. He frowned in slight confusion and she huffed with a laugh. “Did you kiss him or did you snog him, Evan,” she clarified and he blushed.

John snorted. “How old are you? I have never heard anyone use the word ‘snog’ outside of fuckin’ Harry Potter.”

Evan pretended he wasn’t blushing because it was _definitely_ just the heat of the afternoon. “I just kissed him, don’t be so ridiculous.” He scratched the back of his neck and Simone just smiled. After a second he rolled his eyes. “What?” he demanded and her smile widened, showing gleaming teeth.

“Nothing!” She held her hands up in innocence and giggled when he gave her a stern look. Marcel shoved her lightly and she laughed openly as he poked at her sides. “I di-idn’t do anyth-thing!” she shrieked and he just shook his head, ignoring the smirk John carried.

 

-

 

“Hey Riley,” Brock chirped as the car door opened. He slid across to the other side, Suni shoving Brian in and hopping in herself. The Irish boy flushed as she made a point to lean against him and push him closer up against Brock. She just grinned innocently, her giggle heard when Jon jumped into the front.

The other three jumped in the car behind theirs, Alice greeting them all happily, and both cars set off one in front of the other to navigate away from the park and towards home.

Riley glanced back at the two blushing boys and the smirking girl. “So, what happened? How was it?” She spared a little smile to her son who just shrugged.

“Brock and Brian are _boyfriends_ ,” Suni giggled, Riley’s eyes crinkling as she watched both boys go redder in her rear-view mirror. Brock hid his face with one hand, the other unsurprisingly linked with Brian’s.

“Well that’s cute, isn’t it?” The redhead laughed to herself at the fluster and Jon bit his lip to stop his own giggling.

The Irish boy spluttered. “W-well!” His sharp eyes locked onto the flower crown visible in front of him. “Jon kissed Evan!” he blurted out before clamping a hand over his mouth. Suni smacked both hands over hers, eyes wide as she swallowed down her laughter. Jon’s blue eyes widened also, sucking in a breath as he looked out the window.

Riley cleared her throat and he shyly glanced at her. She dragged her analysing gaze back to the road. “Did he now?” Jon swallowed. A silence filled the car and he busied himself on his phone in his embarrassment.

-

**Sunday, 17:28.**

**“Jay” - > Terroriser, Twink One, Twink Two, Mini Thot, Suni and Moo-Moo.**

**“Jay”:** ur dead to me brian u fuck

 **“Jay”:** shes gonna KILL ME

 **Suni:** rip

 **Moo-Moo:** rip

 **Terroriser:** I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO SAY

 **Twink One:** what happened

 **Twink Two:** what did brian do

 **Suni:** fucked jon for life

 **Moo-Moo:** told riley he kissed evan

 **Twink Two:** LMAO GET FUCKED

 **Twink One:** lol we told alice and she almost crashed the car

 **“Jay”:** MUTHERFICKERD

 **Mini Thot:** she doesn’t understand why we’re all wheezing

 **“Jay”:** suni say something at my funeral

 **“Jay”:** you too brock

 **Twink One:** can i

 **“Jay”:** no

 **Mini Thot:**?

 **“Jay”:** no u guys will fuckin roast me when im already in my coffin

 **“Jay”:** suni probs will too but she’ll cry while she does it

 **“Jay”:** so its not that bad

 **Suni:** im a cold bitch i dont cry

 **Suni:** nothing makes me cry

 **Terroriser:** u cried in wreck it ralph

 **Mini Thot:** so did you??

 **Suni:** dont ucking expose me assshoel

 **Terroriser:** I DID NOT

 **Mini Thot:** u so did don’t even lie

 **Terroriser:** CRAGI YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN’T TELL

 **Mini Thot:** yeah i tell suni i love her every day as well

 **Mini Thot:** you bitches are gullible

 **Suni:** i

 **Suni:** what

 **Mini Thot:** oops <3

 **Moo-Moo:** shes actually crying omg look what you did

 **Suni:** you lied?

 **Terroriser:** SHES SOBBING

 **Mini Thot:** I WAS KIDDING

 **Mini Thot:** DONT CRY BABY

 **Mini Thot:** I DO LOVE YOU

 **Suni:** gotcha bitch

 **Suni:** you think i care

 **Suni:** id sell you for a fuckin toothpick

 **Suni:** im a COLD BITCH

 **Moo-Moo:** she asked for tissues

 **Suni:** COLD

 **Suni:** BITCH

-

“So, are you gonna tell me what happened?” Riley’s voice had Jon dropping his phone to his lap. The red lights allowed her to take her attention off the road and she was watching her son with an unreadable emotion. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Jon swallowed thickly. “N-no, he’s- we’re- n-not my boyfriend,” he stammered and she nodded slowly.

“Why not?”

He blinked. “I… I don’t know? It’s a bit fa-fast for that?” He didn’t seem sure of anything he said and she hummed with thought. All three in the back were listening intently, partly worried for their friend, partly amused at the events.

“Do you want to be his boyfriend?” Cool. Calm. Riley never broke a sweat. Working in law she was perfect down to her heartrate. Brock, Brian and Suni knew that when she was serious, she was _terrifying._

He bit his lip. “I don’t know?”

“Are you going to answer any of my questions with a straight answer?” she asked and he blinked.

Suni snorted. “No, he’s as far from straight as you can get him,” she put in and the woman’s lip twitched with the slightest hint of a smile.

“I… I like him,” Jon admitted. “And I think he likes me. He flirts and acts like it and we’ve, er, almost kissed several times before and today I guess we just…” he trailed off, shrugging again and she spared him another glance before following the car before them as the light flashed green.

She nodded. “I want him to come over for dinner again,” she said.

The three in the back seat shared worried glances. They knew Riley’s wrath, thankfully not firsthand, but they’d heard stories. If Evan fucked up, he’d _get_ fucked up.

**-**

**Sunday, 17:51.**

**Suni - > Moo-Moo, Terroriser, Twink One, Twink Two, “Jay” and Mini Thot.**

**Suni:** RIP evan 2018

 **Mini Thot:** oh no whats happened

 **Suni:** rileys gonna fuck him UP

 **Twink Two:** oh no

 **Twink Two:** f to pay respects

 **Twink One:** f

 **Mini Thot:** F

 **Moo-Moo:** F

 **Terroriser:** FFFFFFFFFFFFFfff

 **“Jay”:** f

 **“Jay”:** uck off you twats

 **Mini Thot:** lmao jons scared

 **Moo-Moo:** im scared

 **Mini Thot:** we know Brocky

 **Moo-Moo:** someone cuddle me

 **Terroriser:** k

 **Moo-Moo** : <3

 **Suni:** ur sitting right next to each other and next to ME

 **Suni:** ew fuck off you’re actually cuddling

 **Terroriser:** suck my dick

 **Suni:** thats brocks job tho

 **Suni:** how are u even typing this well with one hand

 **Terroriser:** im good at multitasking ;)

 **Twink One:** i don’t even want to know what you’re implying with that

 **Mini Thot:** neither

-

By the time Riley pulled into the driveway, Jon had thought up every awful embarrassing thing his mother could say to Evan, and Suni had given Brock and Brian a hard-enough time for having been cuddled up next to each other for the entire drive. Alice pulled in behind Riley, Jon shaking his head as his other parent slammed on the brakes and had everyone else in the car jerking forwards unexpectedly.

She didn’t care for it in the slightest as she bound out of the car and swept her son up in a hug. When she’d squeezed all the air from her lungs she pulled back. “You kissed him! The pretty punk boy!?” she gasped, eyes wide and glimmering with pride while Riley rolled hers in the background. The rest of them giggled as he flushed.

“It’s not a big deal, Mama,” he grumbled and she laughed.

“Of course, it is, oh my gosh! Are you going to go out on a date with him? Are you going to be his boyfriend?” she asked, shaking him lightly as his friends followed Riley up and through the door. The woman gasped with a sudden realisation. “He’s your first kiss!” she cooed and Jon shrugged. Suni snorted, and clamped a hand over her mouth.

He couldn’t meet his mom’s eye when he told her she wasn’t exactly correct. “Sorry but not quite…” At her confused look he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Spin the bottle?”

“Who was your first kiss?”

Jon glanced at his friends and Lucas scurried inside with a red face. Brian threw his head back with laughter. “Err…” he swallowed.

“It was Lucas!” Scotty shouted from the door before ducking inside as Lucas shrieked.

Alice’s brows raised and Jon smiled. “Sorry?” he offered and she let go of his shoulders, shaking her head.

“Oh well, at least it wasn’t someone awful or someone straight,” she said, her smile showing she really didn’t care. “But I’ll be expecting Evan to come over for dinner sometime this week again,” she told him. He nodded hastily. “Go on now,” she laughed and he grinned, pecking her on the cheek quickly before racing up into the house. His friends had already made themselves at home in his room, Brock laying on the bed with his head in Brian’s lap. Suni was half on top of Brock, hands playing with Craig’s hair from where he sat with his back against the bed. Lucas was flat on the floor and Scotty was going through and touching all his stuff; spraying deodorants and trying everything on himself.

At the pointed glare from Jon he smiled guiltily and put the lip tint in his hands back on the shelf. Lucas’ face was muffled in a pillow, laying face down on the carpet and groaning. “Alice is never gonna look at me the same way again.” Jon rolled his eyes, knowing that he didn’t need to see his friend’s face to know it was beat red.

“Don’t be dramatic,” he told him, taking a seat on his desk chair and spinning around thoughtlessly. “She doesn’t care.”

“I mean now you’ve kissed Evan so…?” Suni offered with a smirk. “ _And_ you have his number. When are ya gonna ask him on a date?” He rolled his eyes, stopping his spinning while he was facing away to try and stop the redness of his own cheeks.

He shrugged. “I’ll text him later.”


	15. monday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a filler chapter after i posted a basicallyido407 oneshot request (up on my account). 9 pages out of 10 is text chat :).  
> i'll see how soon i can get up chapter 16 and i'll try make it at least 50% narration too!

**15.**  

Jonathon breezed through Monday. Nothing could bring him down from the high the festival had filled him with. A grin stayed pulling at his lips for the entire day and he could tell the event had left the same effects on his friends as well. Though through his happiness he could barely pay attention to his classes.

In symphony he played his violin on autopilot, trying to keep from seeking out dark brown eyes. He heard each and every piano note strong and clear, no matter what part of the pieces they were playing. In English and Photography, he didn’t hear a word from either of his teachers. At recess and lunch he and his friends spoke of what they loved about the previous day and what they were looking forward to in coming weeks.

History was filled with little smiles and lingering stares, Evan and Jon both extremely awful at acting subtle about what they were thinking; consistently stealing glances at one another and pressing comfortably close when showing one another something on their own laptops or papers. Evan’s arm rested along the back of Jon’s seat as he leant close to look over the project instructions with him. His finger pointed out specific points of information, gentle voice explaining what they were supposed to do and how they were supposed to go about it.

Jon barely heard a single thing he said.

Stupidly, he nodded when Evan asked him if he was making sense, and by the end of the class he knew nothing more than at the start. He didn’t have the courage to ask him if he wanted to come for dinner either.

Maths barely lasted two minutes in his mind and Brock and Brian didn’t even notice him zone out to begin with. They definitely noticed his blank page when the bell signalled their permission to leave and laughed about the trouble he was bound to be. He and Brock sung along to his music the drive home and he hummed to himself until he was locking the front door behind him.

He stopped by the living room to drop a kiss to Riley’s cheek and one to Alice’s forehead, before bounding up the stairs and falling lazily on his bed. Unsurprisingly the group-chat was filling his lock screen with messages.

-

**Monday, 15:58**

**Terroriser - > Moo-Moo, Twink One, Twink Two, Mini Thot, Suni and “Jay”.**

**Terroriser:** and he just touched my dick like he’d never seen one before

 **Terroriser:** and then he fukcin started tickling me asshole

 **“Jay”:** ok what the fuck

 **Twink One:** he’s talking about me

 **Terroriser:** no??/ are you saying you would tickle me arse

 **Twink One:** i aint denying anything ;)

 **“Jay”:** i feel like i dont want to be here

 **Moo-Moo:** no one leave! We’re having a family meeting, you’re not allowed to go until I say so

 **Suni:** o shit waddup

 **Suni:** brocks in mom mode watch out

 **Mini Thot:** im intimidated

 **Terroriser:** im turned on

 **“Jay”:** can you guys break up now

 **Moo-Moo:** sure

 **Terroriser:** WHAT

 **Moo-Moo:** <3 love you baby

 **Moo-Moo:** now is everyone here?

 **Terroriser:** ye

 **“Jay”:** present

 **Suni:** yup

 **Mini Thot:** its ya boi

 **Twink One:** lmao

 **Twink Two:** o shit waddup

 **Moo-Moo:** Wonderful! New names!

 **“Jay”:** oh fuck

 **Twink One:** make brian bitchboy.

 **Terroriser:** excUSE ME

**Moo-Moo changed Terroriser’s name to Bitch Boi.**

**Bitch Boi:** BROCK WHY

 **Bitch Boi:** MAKE SCOTTYS WHORE

 **Moo-Moo:** Bri that’s inappropriate

 **Bitch Boi:** SO IS THIS????

 **Moo-Moo:** yes but it’s also accurate so it get’s a pass

 **Bitch Boi:** can u make him slut then

 **Moo-Moo:** …

 **Twink One:** brock pls no

**Moo-Moo changed Twink One’s name to Slut.**

**Slut:** why am i friends with any of you…

**Moo-Moo changed Twink Two’s name to Dat Boi.**

**Dat Boi:** approved

 **Dat Boi:** can jon be thirsty

 **Dat Boi:** he needs that h2o

**Moo-Moo changed “Jay”’s name to H2O.**

**H2O:** how does that even make sense

 **H2O:** shouldnt evan be the h2o

 **H2O:** if im thirsty

 **Mini Thot:** do you really think we use logic in tis gc

 **Mini Thot:** ur wrong

**Moo-Moo changed Mini Thot’s name to Het.**

**Het:** …

 **H2O:** lmao u cant complain

 **Dat Boi:** its not wrong

**Moo-Moo changed Suni’s name to Slave Driver.**

**Slave Driver:** is this a compliment?

 **Bitch Boi:** NO

 **Slut:** nO

 **H2O:** omg

 **Het:** fucking true tho

 **H2O:** u chose to date her

 **Het:** yeah we all make mistakes

 **Slave Driver:** *whip sound*

 **Het:** fUck

 **Moo-Moo:** What should mine be?

 **Bitch Boi:** mom

 **Slave Driver:** i think brian would rather call you daddy

 **Bitch Boi:** fuck off?

**Moo-Moo changed Moo-Moo’s name to Daddy.**

**Bitch Boi:** WHY MOO

 **Dat Boi:** LMAOOOO

 **Het:** this is too far

 **Het:** brock why

 **Slave Driver:** I NEED AN ADULT

 **Slut:** JONS ALMOST AN ADULT

 **Slut:** JON SAVE US

 **Slut:** IM TOO YOUNG TO WATCH PORN

 **Het:** fuckin liar u watch porn all the time

 **H2O:** ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 **Dat Boi:** u definitely went to google and copy pasted it

 **H2O:** ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 **Dat Boi:** filthy meme

 **Dat Boi:** awful quality

 **Dat Boi:** bad taste

 **Dat Boi:** unlikable

 **Dat Boi:** out of date

 **H2O:** how about you keep your opinions to your meme review page you bich ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 **Dat Boi:** o shit waddup

 **Slave Driver:** i wish i had real whips

 **Daddy:** Suni, that’s not very nice, I will remove you’re name if you abuse your title like this.

 **H2O:** i cant take him srsly

 **H2O:** i just cant

 **Slut:** neither

 **Slut:** brians daddy kink shouldnt make us suffer like this too

 **Daddy:** you’re being dramatic, both of you

 **Het:** no ur creepy

 **Het:** ur not my real dad

 **H2O:** ye he’s not brians either

 **H2O:** but brian still calls him daddy

 **H2O:** so can u

 **Bitch Boi:** i asked him to be my bf yesterday and ye acting like weve already fucked

 **Daddy:** ;)

 **Bitch Boi:** BROCK

 **Het:** ok what did u do with brock

 **Slave Driver:** even im uncomfrortble omfg

 **Bitch Boi:** same

 **H2O:** brian theres a difference between being uncomfortable and being turned on pls learn it

 **Daddy:** i can teach him

 **Dat Boi:** WHAT THE

 **Slut:** FUUUUUUUUUCK

 **H2O:** IM OUT IM NO ADULT I CANT DEAL WITH THIS

 **Slave Driver:** BRIANS A BOTTOM LMAO

 **Het:** no fucking way babe

 **Het:** brocks defs a bottom

 **Het:** like more of a bottom than lucas

 **Het:** he’s a fucking power bottom thats what he is

 **H2O:** omg

 **Dat Boi:** fucking rude but also true

 **Dat Boi:** i will deal with being used as a measurement of twink-ness

 **Slut:** lmaooo brocks a power bottom

**Bitch Boi left the chat**

**Daddy:** was i too much

 **Het:** Brocky, you broke the “too much” meter

 **Daddy:** should i feel bad

 **H2O:** its ok u probs just gave him a hard on

 **Daddy:** I wasn’t finished with the family meeting; this app updated so we can actually put a name on our groupchat and make it constant instead of a new message every time.

 **Slave Driver:** oh fucking finally

 **Slave Driver:** make a fuckin chat then boi

**-**

**Monday, 16:24.**

**Daddy made a groupchat. Members: H2O, Slave Driver, Dat Boi, Bitch Boi, Het and Slut.**

**Daddy:** What should we call us?

 **Slave Driver:** bdsm

 **Het:** why

 **Slave Driver:** brian dsucks slotsof mcock

 **Bitch Boi:** end my suffering

 **Daddy:** I’m sorry, Brian.

 **Bitch Boi:** no youre not

 **Bitch Boi:** ur probably giggling ur sweet ass off right this second

 **Daddy:** …. Yeah…

 **H2O:** our parents are so cute

 **Slave Driver:** our parents are too horny

 **Slut:** our parents are the type of parents who would end up having their kids walk in on them while they’re having sex because they forgot to lock the door

 **Daddy:** well

 **Bitch Boi:** ………

 **Daddy:** id lock the door

 **Bitch Boi:** daddy no

 **Daddy:** daddy yes

 **H2O:** i need defilburatersh

 **Slave Driver:** …..wtf

 **Het:** ur incompetence makes me lose brain cells

 **Slut:** can u really not just

 **Slut:** use autocorrect

 **Dat Boi:** pls turn on autocorrect

 **H2O:** autocorrect can suck my penoins

 **Daddy:** wow

 **Bitch Boi:** u killed my boner

 **H2O:** EW

 **Daddy:** o.o

 **Slave Driver:** LMAO BROCK

**Daddy changed Daddy’s name to Mom.**

**H2O:** thank god

 **Slut:** weak

 **Slut:** u should have made brian suffer more

 **Slave Driver:** his daddy kink has been exposed its alright hes suffered a good amount

 **Het:** i just want it to be known that i hate you guys

 **Het:** all of u

 **Dat Boi:** why

 **Dat Boi:** is it bc we’re gay

 **Dat Boi:** is it bc ur straight and we just arent as good as you

 **Dat Boi:** we’re lesser than you

 **Dat Boi:** is that it

 **H2O:** oh boy

 **Slut:** welp

 **Mom:** Lucas

 **Mom:** apologise.

 **Dat Boi:** but mooooooooooooooooooom

 **Mom:** we do not pull the homophobia card in this groupchat

**Dat Boi:** _but mooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom_

**Mom:** apologise.

 **Het:** :)

 **Dat Boi:** …. >:(

 **Dat Boi:** sry

 **Mom:** Lucas…

 **Dat Boi:** IM SORRY

 **Dat Boi:** i wont pull the homophobia card again….

 **Mom:** good boy

 **H2O:** boi*

 **Mom:** good boi**

 **Het:** thanks lucas love you

 **Dat Boi:** … ur ok

 **Het:** :(((((

 **Mom:** >:(

 **Dat Boi:** fine ily2 fuck off

 **Het:** good enough

 **Slave Driver:** that was hard to read

 **Slut:** pretty pitiful

 **Bitch Boi:** ye

 **H2O:** brians still recovering from his boner im legit fucking dead.

 **Bitch Boi:** im not i was just joking

 **Dat Boi:** bullshit

 **Slave Driver:** buuuullshit

 **Slut:** shitty liar

 **H2O:** lmao get called out

 **Bitch Boi:** i dont have a daddy kink fuck right off

 **Slave Driver:** says every personw ith a daddy kink ever

 **Mom:** It’s okay babe, we’ll accept you no matter your flaws

 **Bitch Boi:** BROCK WHY

 **Bitch Boi:** every fucking chat we bully me

 **Bitch Boi:** everything I do

 **Bitch Boi:** ye all pick on me no matter what

 **Bitch Boi:** i do my fuckin best

 **Slut:** lmao stfu no one cares

 **Bitch Boi:** im nice

 **Dat Boi:** false

 **Bitch Boi:** im thoughtful

 **H2O:** also false

 **Bitch Boi:** WHAT DO I DO WRONG

 **Slave Driver:** probably your accent

 **Slut:** might be your hair?

 **H2O:** idk dude i think its your walk

 **Bitch Boi:** fuck you guys

**Bitch Boi left the chat.**

**Mom added Bitch Boi to the chat.**

**Mom:** Alright, everyone shhh – what’s our name going to be?

 **H2O:** jonathon’s amazing

 **Slut:** fuckboys

 **Mom:** …

 **Bitch Boi:** mistakes

 **Mom:** I’m rolling my eyes

**Mom changed the chat name to Thirsty Hoes.**

**Slut:** this is unfairly calling me out

 **H2O:** tbh same

 **Bitch Boi:** im not thirsty

 **Het:** im not a hoe

 **Slave Driver:** u both just fcuking lied


	16. knives and forks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> poly!simone/marcel/scotty has been asked for repeatedly in comments so here you go you thirsty hoes. love you all

**16.**

Scotty spent an hour on his bed with his phone in hand, typing and deleting and typing and deleting. His thoughts were a flurry of ‘how can I say this’ and ‘what’s a better word for that’. Craig hummed to himself on the other end of the call Scotty had started forty minutes ago. His hopes of getting his friend’s help with texting the two people he was crushing on were slowly becoming smaller and smaller with every moment.

After another failed message that sounded too corny he groaned, closing his eyes and letting his phone fall face-down on the mattress. “Craig, you’re supposed to _help_ me with this,” he whined, knowing he was the furthest from cool and collected when it came to anything, especially Marcel and Simone. He didn’t want to stare at the open chat message any longer.

Craig’s humming stopped, a sigh and shuffle heard. “Look. I love you. And I wish I could help, but I have no idea how to.”

“Dude,”—Scott sat up—“you have a girlfriend. You have to know something about confessing or asking someone out or sending them a first message.” He sounded helpless and desperate and the short laugh Craig let out only made him feel worse.

He listened as his friend moved around, something clicking and footsteps barely reaching the speaker. “I hate to break it to you Scott, but Suni asked me out. She told me she knew I liked her, told me she was sick of waiting and asked for my number. Then texted me and asked me to go on a date with her. Fuck’s sake, she asked me when I was going to ask her to be my girlfriend after I bitched out every date we went on for a month and a half – I don’t know shit about anything.” There was no shame in the brit’s voice and none of it even came as a surprise to the polyamorous boy suffocating himself with his own pillow. “I’m sorry, Scott, but whatever you do I’m sure you can’t fuck it up too badly.”

The blonde huffed. “Thanks, you were so much help,” he muttered and hung up before Craig could wish him luck. He knew he was being a tad unfair but he didn’t have anyone else to call.

Suni would roast him more than help him and even if she helped at all, he was still terrified of her on more occasions than he’d like to admit – he didn’t fancy calling her and asking for dating advice. Jon was as lovesick as he was but knew nothing more than him. Brock and Brian were hopeless and Lucas was even worse when it came to John. His friends were wonderful, but no help at all.

He rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. The sun was gone and the night was urging him to go to bed, the stars laughing and giggling at his idiocy from where they shone.

‘Hey! It’s Scotty. Thought I’d shoot you a message!’

‘Hi. This is Scotty. I’m messaging to ask what you meant by “if you’re interested”’

‘Yo, its Scott. Please help me, I have a massive crush on both of you and I have no idea how to fucking deal with it!’

He wanted to scream. A few beeps on his phone later he put it back to his ear and closed his eyes. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Don’t give me shit or I’ll hang up on you, but I need help,” he grumbled. The giggle he heard tempted him to touch the red button and forget he ever heard it. “I don’t know what to text them that isn’t lame or too excited or just weird.”

The sigh was lined with smugness. “Oh Scotty,” she cooed.

“Can you help me without bein’ a bitch about it?” Her laughter followed his words.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be nice. What do you want to say?”

He sat up, putting the call on speaker as he stood and pulled off his shirt. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be calling you, I’d be sleeping.” His bedsheets welcomed him in a now dim room.

It took her a few seconds to think about it. “Just keep it simple, once they have you’re number they’ll probably ask you out themselves,” she explained as he settled in the dark and glared up at the ceiling. “You don’t have to make it super formal; they’re obviously interested in you and remember Jon said Simone wanted you to text anyway. I don’t know, say thanks for finding your phone or something. Just don’t pussy out.” He could practically see her rolling her eyes as she shuffled around, getting herself to bed.

He stayed quiet, biting his tongue as he folded her words over in his mind and tucked them away for later. Pulling the open chat up he slowly wrote in a message. “How about, ‘Hey, this is Scott. Wanted to say thanks for finding my phone and getting it back to me, and sorry for causing any trouble’?” He crossed his fingers, wondering why he even needed her approval so much but smiling to himself when she made a happy sound.

“Yep, that’s fine. Now piss off, I have to talk to you enough as it is in Maths and Science.” Her words were soft and teasing and he rolled his eyes.

“Thanks Sun.” His words were fond and a yawn followed them as he triple-checked the message and sent it through to both numbers. “G’night.”

“Night, fuckboy.” She giggled after her words and ended the call herself as he watched the little ‘Delivered’ indicator pop up beneath the coloured message bubble. He stared at the screen for a few minutes before turning it off and reaching over to put the device on his bedside table. Before he let go of it, it buzzed with a notification and he snatched it back with wide eyes.

-

**_Wednesday, 21:23_ **

**Scotty - > Simone, and Marcel.**

**Scotty:** hey this is scott. wanted to say thanks for finding my phone and getting it back to me and sorry for causing any trouble

 **Marcel:** hey man no worries

 **Marcel:** glad you ran into us

 **Simone:** hey! thanks for txting us!

-

He pressed his lips together in a tight smile, unable to stop himself from beaming in the dark room. He didn’t think either would message back before the morning, let alone only a few seconds after he’d sent his own message. It seemed silly, but he couldn’t help himself from rereading the short messages excitedly, acknowledging the exclamation marks with probably a bit too much joy.

-

 **Scotty:** thanks for giving me your numbers

 **Simone:** you can thank us by joining us for coffee on Sunday 10am?

-

 _Holy fucking shit._ He was not freaking out. He was not freaking out. He was not freaking out. He was _definitely_ freaking out. He screenshotted the open chat, sending it to the groupchat ‘Thirsty Hoes’ before returning to the awaiting message and spending a good few seconds panicking.

He had to be **cool**.

-

 **Scotty:** i wont be doing anything else

-

He hesitated a second, his message sounding less casual and more lonely than he’d hoped.

-

 **Scotty:** :)

-

No. Nope. The smiley face definitely did not make it any better.

-

 **Marcel:** it’ll be nice to hang out

 **Simone:** yeah! cant wait

 **Scotty:** neither

 **Scotty:** ill see you guys at school, sleep well

 **Marcel:** sweet dreams

 **Marcel:** :)

-

**_Wednesday, 21:28._ **

**Slut - > _Thirsty Hoes_**

**Slut sent a photo.**

**Slave Driver:** :)

 **Het:** KNEW YOU HAD IT IN YA

 **Slut:** no u fuckin didnt u were no help

 **Slave Driver:** wait u called craig for help before me

 **Slave Driver:** lmao

 **Slut:** i didn’t realise he was the bitch in the relationship

 **Het:** HEY

 **Het:** IM NOT HTE BITCH

 **Dat Boi:** ur definitely the bitch

 **Bitch Boi:** lmao

 **Bitch Boi: …** its less effective when my name is bitch boi

 **Het:** yeah look whos talking

 **Bitch Boi:** :(

 **Bitch Boi:** ur picture wont load scotty wht is it

 **H2O:** SIMONE ASKING HIM FOR COFFEE ON SAT

 **H2O:** GET IN

 **Mom:** Yay! Proud of you Scotty

 **Slut:** thanks mom

 **Bitch Boi:** sluts gonna get his threesome

 **Slut:** …

 **H2O:** not wrong

 **Het:** gonna get LAID

 **Slave Driver:** u know we’re gonna want ALL the details

 **Slut:** ew y’all are gross

 **Slave Driver:** y’all

 **Slut:** fuck up

 **Bitch Boi:** so now lou has to get his ass in gear and the fairy tales will all come true

 **Dat Boi:** >:(

 **Mom:** was your part of the fairy tale me?

 **Bitch Boi:** yes

 **Mom:** omg

 **Dat Boi:** when ur mad at dad but he says something cute to mom

 **Het:** im not crying u are

 **Mom:** you’re right, I am crying.

 **H2O:** brian u made him cry

 **Bitch Boi:** <3

 **Slave Driver:** love how ur cute on text but blush like 12 yr olds when you see each other

 **Dat Boi:** LET THEM HAVE THEIR CUTE MOMENT

 **Bitch Boi:** i can be smooth irl

 **Mom:** :0

 **Slave Driver:** ill have to see it to believe it

**-**

Jon saw Evan four times on Friday. In History, at recess, at lunch and during Symphony. The whole day he had the question on the tip of his tongue. Every time he looked at the punk, his lungs swelled with the words ready to be asked. Every single time, they turned into butterflies and he trapped them behind a shy smile. He just couldn’t ask him to come for dinner. He knew Riley wanted the boy over that night, knew he’d had every day beforehand to have him over too.

He was just too much of a chicken. “Want me to take you home?” They’d ran into each other just outside the building, and Jon nodded eagerly. Any chance he got to spend more time with Evan he took. Even if it meant just standing together in the cafeteria line or walking one another to classes. He was infatuated after barely over a week of talking to him and he couldn’t get enough of the soft happy look in those pretty brown eyes.

Brock sighed when he spotted the two, Jon waving meekly as he put on his helmet. Evan held his hand lightly to help the shorter boy on the back and waited until his arms were secure around his front before he started the bike.

_Just ask him. Just say it. Don’t be a baby, Mom will kill you if you don’t. Just ask him._

“Here we are,” Evan’s words were less heard and more felt, his chest vibrating beneath the palm of Jon’s hand. The brunette lingered on the back, biting his tongue as he unravelled his arms from Evan and leant back so the punk could turn slightly in his seat. He couldn’t help himself, pulling off the punk’s helmet and admiring the little quirk of his lips.

He took off his own and held them by the chinstraps. Evan lifted a hand to hold Jon’s face as he leaned in and their lips met in the peaceful silence of the street. Jon’s eyes fell shut and he hooked his fingers loosely into the collar of the punk’s shirt. The kiss was sweet and gentle, Evan leading Jon with tentative touches. Smiling lips against his own drew a sigh from his lungs and Jon decided that there was nothing better than kissing Evan Fong.

The punk pulled back, uncomfortable and probably hurting at how he was twisted in his middle to try and face the boy properly. Jon forget they were even still on the bike, sitting outside his own house. “S-sorry,” he stuttered as he hopped off the bike. He hesitated, still holding onto the helmets as Evan shook his head and dismissed the apology.

The punk leaned towards him and dropped a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t ever be sorry for kissing me,” he told him, the brunette blushing under the loving gesture.

Jon sucked in a breath and looked the punk in his pretty brown eyes. “Can you- Are you- Would you want to st-stay for dinner again tonight?” he blurted out, his voice catching on his teeth and struggling to make it through in one piece. At the look of surprise he flinched and looked away, regretting asking almost instantly. “Sorry, you don’t have to. I… Brian told Mom we kissed and they wanted you to come for dinner again and I’ve been trying to ask you all day but I was too much of a chicken to do it. It’s so late, you really don’t have to.” By the time he pulled his eyes back up to the boy he liked so much, the surprise was gone and fond eyes watched instead. The little amused smile was patient.

“You really don’t have to be so scared of talking to me, Jay,” Evan commented, reaching out and taking the helmets off him. He put the spare one in the back compartment and kicked the stand up, turning the bike back on.

“I-I’m not scared!” Rosy cheeks told the punk otherwise, his childish frown convincing no one. He watched disheartened as the punk put his helmet back on.

“I’ll go home and get changed, but I’ll be back in a few once I’ve told Dad,” he told him, adjusting the strap as Jon grinned. The brunette nodded happily, adjusting the bag on his back. “See you in a bit, Flower Boy.” The engine revved and the bike and its driver disappeared around the corner, Jon turning and darting inside.

He rushed upstairs and threw his bag on his bed, tripping over his shorts as he tried to step out of them and pull his shirt off at the same time. The grin on his face didn’t break as he changed, pulling on a more comfortable sweater as well as some comfortable jeans before he checked his hair and fixed his flower crown. He couldn’t tell whether he was wearing it because he thought it was cute still, or if he just loved the look in Evan’s eyes when they examined the pink and yellow roses.

Either way, he knew he’d be wearing it to dinner too.

“Jonathon?” Riley’s voice climbed the stairs towards him and he kicked off his shoes before following it out of his room.

“Hi Mom! Sorry, I was just getting changed,” he called, trying not to stumble as he hurried down the stairs.

The two met at the bottom, Jon kissing her on the cheek with a grin. She wore a frown of pretend-distrust. “Why are you so happy, and where’s your boyfriend? I thought you said you were going to ask him to come tonight?”

He giggled, pulling her after him to the kitchen as he followed the delicious smell of the dinner her wife was cooking. “I did – he’s going home first but he’ll be back soon.” Two short arms pulled him close.

“Well I hope he likes curry! Is he your boyfriend yet?” Alice asked, hugging him close and kissing all over his face.

He laughed, softly swatting her away as he shook his head. “No, Ma, not yet. And you can’t ask him that! You can’t embarrass me.” Her frown of disappointment vanished to a cheerful smile as she released him and turned back to her cooking.

“Now, why would I do that?” she asked, batting her eyes innocently as he shook his head.

“Maaa,” he whined. “He won’t want to come back ever again if you make him uncomfortable! You’ve gotta be nice.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m always nice, baby, don’t you worry about a thing. Set the table for me?” He huffed but knew whining about it more would bring nothing but laughter from the woman and instead turned to the task he’d been asked to do. Riley moved her laptop and booklet out of the way, reading over the screen as she walked from the room.

Alice ordered her son around the kitchen, their voices mixing together with her music as they haphazardly danced around each other while trying to cook at the same time. He fetched her ingredients and did as she asked, boiling the rice and making sure the curry didn’t burn, as she checked the garlic bread and placed a jug of water and cups on the table. The woman had a lovely voice as she sung, Jon smiling the entire time. He used to listen to her sing as a child, going to sleep to the sweet sound and always cheering up to her voice.

He never stopped loving it.

A cry jumped from his throat as he almost dropped the pot he was draining, a knock at the door startling him. Caught with a pot in hand and curry to watch over, Alice left him to rush to the door. “Don’t burn yourself, sweetheart!” she called, giggling. He rolled his eyes and filled the pot with cold water, turning off the stove. He listened as his mother opened the door and greeted Evan, the soft low voice of his classmate audible but too quiet to understand. His other mother’s voice appeared too, leading the boy into the house and shutting the door behind him. There was no doubt Alice would have, in her excitement, forgotten to invite the boy in.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he heard the boy say and turned to watch him walk into the kitchen. Alice hurried past him and turned down her music as she pulled out the tray in the oven. “That smells delicious, Alice.” Brown eyes fell to Jon, dancing over him with a soft smile.

Jon smiled back, nothing to say to the punk in front of both of his parents. Riley glanced between the two with a suspicious look and Jon turned away hastily.

“Perfect timing too, Evan, we’re all ready to dish up!” Alice pulled four bowls from the cupboard, Jon dishing up his own serving and taking the plate of garlic bread to the table also. Evan followed suit, sitting beside him as his parents made their own plates and took their own seats.

“Hey”—Evan shuffled his chair closer—“you look cute.” He kept his voice barely above a whisper and bumped his shoulder lightly against Jon’s. His smile was cheeky and Jon thanked himself as sparkling eyes flickered up to admire the ring of flowers nestled in brown curls. No words offered themselves to the brunette for a response, his cheeks flushing as Alice and Riley settled in their chairs. Riley glanced at Evan, the punk holding a smile despite the sharp stare.

“Thank you for having me over,” he said, looking between both women with polite respect. Alice beamed and Riley smiled softly, nodding.

“We’re happy to, especially if you’re going to be kissing Jon.” Yep, Riley didn’t like to waste time. Alice barely even acknowledged the words, digging into her meal as Jon blushed bright red.

“Mom,” he mumbled, glancing at Evan helplessly.

The punk looked caught off guard but managed an uneasy smile. “I, er- I don’t just wa-”

“Evan,” Jon said, shooting a frown at his mother who just smiled innocently. “You don’t need to say anything. Mom, don’t be mean.”

She raised her hands. “I’m not being mean, I’m just curious.”

“It’s okay.” The punk addressed the redhead. “I don’t want you to think I’m using Jon or anything, I really like him,” Evan explained slowly, voice a bit shy in fear of saying the wrong thing. So far, she just nodded taking a bite of the garlic bread as she thought. Her gaze remained on him, not breaking for a second as she analysed his expression and reactions.

“So you want to be his boyfriend,” she said, waiting for him to either agree or disagree as Jon went scarlet.

“Mom!” he hissed as Alice frowned at her wife.

“Riley, don’t be so cold! They’ll go at their own pace,” she scolded, her tone a tad bit too cheerful to be correcting. Beneath the table he slipped his hand into Evan’s and ran his thumb along soft skin in small circles. The punk made sure not to glance at him but Jon could feel the boy relax in his seat.

Riley glanced to her wife, deciding for a second before nodding. When she turned back to Evan her eyes were softer and her smile was more genuine. “I’m sorry, love. I can’t help but be cautious.”

Jon shook his head, pouring himself and his friend water. Evan smiled still. Narrowly escaping relentless interrogation, he was relieved but still respectful. “I understand, but I wouldn’t ever want to hurt him.”

Jon felt like he was going to melt into a puddle, his cheeks red hot and eyes staying on his bowl. His lips stayed in a small giddy smile and the oxygen in his lungs felt too thin as the boy beside him leaned a fraction closer. He didn’t have the courage to look up at him and instead met eyes with Alice who smiled and winked. Baby blues returned to his knife and fork and he continued eating.

But the punk had clearly said the right thing, the lawyer nodding. “I’m glad. Now eat up, both of you.”

“Yes, Mom,” Jon said quickly, scooping rice and chicken into his mouth and moaning over-dramatically at the taste. Alice’s cooking was never disappointing and the woman glowed at the compliments that Evan dropped into his empty bowl by the time they were finished. Jon took all four dishes to the dishwasher, putting as much as he could away before backing up into Evan and linking a hand with his. “Thanks for dinner!” he gushed, pulling the boy after him as he made a dash for the doorway.

Evan laughed as he stumbled after the hasty brunette, throwing a rushed, “It was delicious!” over his shoulder before he was yanked out of the kitchen and pulled towards the stairs. “Jon, slow _down_ ,” he laughed, grin wide as he stumbled up the stairs and was pulled into the railing as Jon turned up the second half of the flight. The brunette just giggled, not stopping until Evan was falling back on his bed and he had the bedroom door shut.

“I’m _so_ sorry,” he exclaimed, falling onto the bed beside the punk and pulling a pillow up to hide his red face. “I’m so, so, so, so, so, so sorry. I didn’t think she’d be _that_ bad, oh my God, I’m sorry.”

Evan laughed, kicking off his boots and shuffling back onto the bed more. “It’s fine, Jay, it wasn’t that bad,” he assured him. The brunette lifted his head, shooting the punk a look with one brow quirked. Evan grinned. “Okay so it was pretty bad, but it’s alright – it could have been worse.”

Jon laughed, hugging the pillow to his chest as he rolled over onto his back. He looked up to the punk who sat cross-legged beside him and bit his lip to stop his giggling. Evan looked at him for a second, smile too wide to contain as he leaned down and connected their lips, fingertips barely felt on the bottom of Jon’s jawbone.

The brunette tilted his head to try lock their lips a little easier, letting Evan gently work his mouth open. He shivered at the tongue that ran along his bottom lip and gasped as teeth nipped at it. Evan sat up straight, licking his lips as Jon gazed up at him. He laughed softly at the wide blue eyes as Jon pushed himself upright also, chasing the sweetness with a breathless smile. He breathed in the punk’s laughter, cupping his neck with one hand and letting the other tangle in the soft hair at the back of his head. His legs awkwardly tucked up beneath him, holding him upright and pushing him forward.

“Kiss me again?” he whispered, eyes dancing between Evan’s as his lips just barely brushed against his. The dimple in his cheek deepened as a thin finger curled beneath his chin, easing his head up. Evan’s grin widened, hand settling on his hipbone and holding him close.

“How could I refuse?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> schools going back today so im gonna see if i can get myself in a schedule for uploads! heres 16. hope you enjoy!  
> i'll have a basicallyidomoo [ request ] oneshot up on the weekend too so look forward to that <33


	17. a coffee date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is long overdue, i've been posting oneshots on this account to fill time between these updates if you're interested - i'll try have 18 out soon x  
> gi

**17.**  

**Sunday, 9:59.**

**Het - > Thirsty Hoes**

**Het:** they there yet scott?

 **Het:** …god i hate my name

 **Mom:** :)

 **Slut:** u hate ur name how do u think i feel

 **Het:** fair point

 **Slut:** and no theyre not

 **Slut:** what table should i sit at?

 **Slave Driver:** one of those booths but not the ones that sit you across from each other

 **Slave Driver:** one with the connected seats that go around three sides of the table

 **H2O:** OOO yess

 **Slut:** okay okay

 **Slut:** im so nervous

 **Mom:** Don’t be. They wouldn’t have asked you out if they didn’t want to get to know you!

 **Het:** moms got a point

 **Slut:** thanks mom

 **Mom:** :)

 **Bitch Boi:** just dont say anything dumb

 **Slut:** great thanks for the tip….

 **Slut:** guys its 10.02 and theyre still not here what do I do

 **Dat Boi:** chill

 **Dat Boi:** smoke some dank memes while you’re waiting

 **Slut:** but i have no dank memes!!!

 **Dat Boi:** D: the memepocalypse is here!

 **Slut:** D:

 **Het:** D:

 **Slave Driver:** every day you remind me just how much i hate all of you

 **Slave Driver:** filthy memes

 **Het:** D:!!!

 **Dat Boi:** D:!!!!!!

 **Slut:** D:<!!!!!!!!!!!!

 **Dat Boi:** dab on the hater

 **Slut:** dabdabdabdabdabdabdabdabdabdabdabdabdabdabdabdabdabdab

 **Dat Boi:** DABDABDABDABDABDABDABDABDABDABDABDABDABDABDABDABDABDABDABDDABDABDABDABDABDABDAB

**Het: DABDABDABDABDABDABDABDABDABDABDABDABDABDAB**

**Slave Driver:** dab one more time and ill dump you

 **Slave Driver:** bitch

 **Het:** D:

 **Dat Boi:** succumb to the memes craig

 **Dat Boi:** memes before hoes

 **Slave Driver:** dont do it craig

 **Het:** DDDD: !!!!!

 **Slave Driver:** …

 **Dat Boi:** thE MEMES CRAIG

 **Het:** >.<

 **Het:** im sorry baby

**Het:** dab

**Slave Driver:** its done bye

 **Het:** D::

 **Dat Boi:** uve made the right decision

 **Dat Boi:** come join us…

 **Slut:** shit marcel just walked in fuck fuck fuck fuckfucxcnvdskjgbsoifbanslddsgidubgsolnfsdlfnkdobgs

 **Dat Boi:** GRAB EM BY THE PUSSY

 **Mom:** LUCAS!!

 **Dat Boi:** yeET

-

“Scott.” He dropped his phone to the lap. The dark-skinned boy strolled through the café with a comfortable aura, charming smile making Scotty reconsider all of his choices. Likelihood of making it through thirty seconds with the boy was very small. He had no chance of surviving the morning.

He managed a half smile, watching the punk as he pulled off his leather jacket and sat heavy beside him. “Hey, how are- how are you?” he asked, Marcel’s eyes glimmering as he relaxed in the booth.

Scotty couldn’t understand how they were so… pretty. There was no better way to describe them than comparing them to the night sky. Maybe if he looked close enough he’d be able to see constellations.

“I’m good, thanks. You?” Marcel folded his jacket on the seat beside him. At Scotty’s polite (albeit shy) nod, he smiled. “Don’t worry ‘bout Sim; she’s usually late.” He rolled his eyes for emphasis and Scott found his cheeky grin too infectious to resist. He smiled at the table, unable to look right at the punk for more than a few seconds.

“That’s fine.” He was thankful they were even showing up to begin with. “I only got here a couple of minutes ago anyway; no stress.” The laugh that dropped from his own lips made him cringe, hearing the nerves in his system. He didn’t want to meet those brown eyes, not wanting to know what they held. Pity? Disappointment? Discomfort? He didn’t want to see it.

“Hey.” The voice was soft, comforting in a way his silver studs and dark eyes said he couldn’t be. Scott did exactly what he told himself he wouldn’t, blue eyes cautious as they met swirls of brown. Reassurance. Curiosity. Patience. Those eyes wore nothing he expected and the thought warmed his cheeks. “You okay Scott? If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to be. You know that, right?”

Understanding.

Scotty blinked in surprise, cheeks rosy as his eyes darted back and forth across the boy’s face. Silver studs in his brow, the glimmering of his eyes, half-ring in his nose. The two rings in his bottom lip pulled at his skin as he offered a small smile. A smile that wasn’t condescending or faked or put on just for the sake of pity.

“N-no! I want to be here, of course I want to be here.” His words stumbled in a rush, not at all wanting Marcel to think he was unhappy sitting in that booth. He was happy, definitely happy, _more_ than happy! He was just… “I’m not- I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t want to… I’m just- I am, er…” He trailed off, not knowing how to admit his nerves without looking stupid.

Marcel’s small smile grew, reassured that he wasn’t making the other boy uncomfortable. The stars in his eyes danced. “You don’t have to be shy then; Simone and I asked you here because we like you and we think you’re cute.” The reassurance in his eyes remained but his smile was one of friendly teasing. His grin broadened at Scotty’s rosy-cheeked frown.

“I’m not shy!” His voice was defensive, despite his flickering gaze. It seemed impossible for him to focus on one thing. He sat on his hands, knowing his tendency to pout and cross his arms over his chest when he got self-justifying. His friends teased him mercilessly about it, which inevitably made him pout more and act even more stubbornly childish. The last thing he wanted was to look like a thirteen-year-old in front of his crush.

Nevertheless, the smile on Marcel’s face didn’t falter, playful humour dancing through his expression. He shrugged, feigning a look of acceptance. “Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re right; ‘shy’ wasn’t the right word, but I think it’s better than telling you not to be scared of me.”

Scott’s frown deepened. “I’m not scared either!” Marcel’s humoured gaze dropped to his lips and he realised he was pouting, despite his efforts. He refused to back down as those dark eyes returned to his, calm beneath his half-glare.

It took only a few seconds for him to admit defeat, blue eyes dropped to the table with burning skin. “Okay, maybe a little scared,” he mumbled, hoping his words blurred together too closely to understand. By the little half-giggle Marcel dropped, he knew they hadn’t and he shot a cautious look at his crush, adding an even quieter: “Scared in a good way.”

There was a little smile on Marcel’s face as the punk looked over his shoulder and Scotty didn’t let his gaze linger, lips pulled up through the redness of his face and neck. He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he loved the sound of Marcel’s laugh.

A loud bang sounded through the room, the bell above the door clanging louder than it was supposed to. Simone stood up straight, brushing down her shorts and running her hands through her long brown hair. She looked around, oblivious to the curious eyes of the room, and noticed the two boys sitting in their booth. Her face lit up, a sweet smile that pushed a single thought of “Cute…” into Scotty’s head. He felt his nerves arise again as she hurried towards them, wearing a pretty white top with high-waisted black shorts, silver chains hanging from the ripped cuffs.

Scott shuffled aside, making room for Marcel to follow and for Simone to sit in on the other side of him. A hand on his shoulder stopped him as Marcel tugged at his arm, kind eyes still reassuring as his girlfriend hopped around to Scotty’s side of the booth and slipped in beside him.

Upon being closer, he could feel warmth radiating off her skin, her chest heaving and cheeks flushed red. “I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed, British accent soft to Scotty’s ears as he forced a weak smile. She pushed her hair back again, inhaling deeply and sighing; falling back against the back of the seat. Marcel wore a knowing smile as his girlfriend tried to catch her breath. “My bike broke, and I had to walk – or run, I should say – even though I left fifteen minutes early just in case something like this happened!” She glanced between the two boys with a guilty smile. “’m sorry,” she repeated and Scotty shook his head, Marcel hiding his humour.

“I’ll go get drinks, what do you guys want?” he asked, sliding out of the booth and grabbing his wallet. Simone sat up straight, mouth open with her order on the tip of her tongue. It was stopped by Marcel’s raised finger, dark eyes rolling. “Not you, I know what you get.” He grinned, eyes returning to Scotty’s still-pink cheeks. “What do you want, Scott?”

The boy had already pulled out a couple of dollars, holding it out to Marcel and trying to settle with a smile that was less anxious. “Just an iced-chocolate, please. I’m not really feeling caffeine.” It felt stupid to be embarrassed that he didn’t drink coffee at all but Marcel didn’t seem bothered, flashing a grin before turning and walking towards the front of the building. He left Scotty’s money waiting in the air. “Marcel!” He stumbled over his own feet, trying to awkwardly stand up and get out of the booth. “I’ll pay for mine!” he called, but the boy was already out of hearing range and speaking to the young girl at the cash register.

Simone laid a hand on his wrist to stop him from leaving, soft brown eyes looking up at him. He let himself be pulled back onto the seat. “Don’t,” she said, voice soft and genuine. “He can pay for us today.”

He convinced himself to relax, the soft fingers on his wrist lingering before pulling away. “Fine,” he murmured. “But I’m paying next time.”

Her smile deepened. “Next time?” she inquired, accent dancing on her words. At the gentle prompt, he realised his wording and blue eyes widened.

“S-sorry, I mean- If there is a, uh, next time. I’m not assu-.”

“Scott.” Her giggling stopped him. “Calm down, I’m just teasing; I’m glad you could come today.” The redness of his cheeks was beginning to feel permanent and he couldn’t find the courage to look up from the table. He was so embarrassed and he knew he would only embarrass himself further.

There was no way he’d ever be able to fit in with Simone and Marcel, that is; if they even gave him the option. The two were closer than anything. With their matching silver studs and star-speckled eyes, they were perfect together. Even the way they spoke and joked around; he was completely out of place. It was no surprise he was crushing on the two punks. The fact he’d been asked out to a coffee date by the two of them still didn’t seem real.

“Are you okay? You don’t need to be shy around us,” she said, voice gentle. He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. She blinked in confusion but held a hopeful look in her eye as he returned his eyes to her.

“That’s exactly what Marcel said.” Her confusion melted to a giggly smile, leaning into him to nudge his shoulder with hers.

He smiled. He couldn’t not. Her face was so pretty, her smile was so happy; it was contagious and he felt an electric buzz spread over the surface of his skin. She was so beautiful. “Maybe you should be less shy then,” she teased and he rolled his eyes, subconsciously leaning closer to her too, their arms only centimetres apart.

“Yeah, it’s hard not to be shy around you too.” The words spilt from his lips. His ability to speak was like ice at the back of his throat. With each warm smile from Simone or Marcel he felt it melting, words flowing like cool water from his tongue. He didn’t think much until his statement was laid out on the table before them and Simone was frowning curiously. She hummed, not bothering with a question, and waited for him to explain as those words refroze. “I, er- I said… I’m, er, I’m just- it’s just-”

His words completely failed him, unable to explain his rambled thoughts. Fortunately for him, his embarrassment was rescued by their third party returning to the table with three drinks in his hands. Marcel looked between the two, sitting back in the booth beside Scott. “You still scared?” he asked, Scott ready for his chest to explode as he frowned at the punk. He may have been about to pass out from embarrassment but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t defend himself.

“I’m not scared!” he argued, Simone pressing her lips together to stop her giggling.

Marcel nodded, clearing his throat and patting the boy on his shoulder. “Uh-huh, yeah; sure Scott,” he said softly. His tone was one-hundred-percent condescending and Scotty shrugged off the touch stubbornly.

Coincidently he shuffled closer to Simone who giggled, leaning up and pressing a feather-light kiss to his cheek. The two punks laughed as he jumped away, eyes wide in shock. “It’s okay babe, you’ll get used to us.”

There wasn’t a second of the morning that his cheeks weren’t bright red. Being called ‘babe’ had the butterflies in his stomach spasming with excitement and the mention of ‘getting used to us’ implied that they’d be getting to know each other even more. He stared at the table, heart slamming his ribcage as Simone giggled happily.

A hand tapped at his shoulder, a timid finger poking the other side of his head. He didn’t let his stare leave his drink, overwhelmed by the two pretty people either side of him.

“Marcie, I think we broke him,” Simone whispered, happy voice filling his head with prettiness. Her accent danced with her amusement and Marcel’s giggly laughter followed her words. “I think we might have to take it a bit slow with him.”

Marcel grinned. “If he gets flustered this easy, then yeah; I think you’re right.” Scott ducked his head further, bringing both hands up to hide his face and Marcel leaned against him, clicking his fingers. “You still with us Scotty?”

After a few seconds, he managed to nod. He couldn’t believe he was with the two punks and he couldn’t believe they were enjoying being around him. The two seemed to give him a little bit of space, speaking around him as the three enjoyed their drinks. Just when his cheeks were starting to cool down and he found himself capable of actually looking at either one of them (only for a few seconds at a time, of course), a muscled arm slung over his shoulders. Marcel leant against him, grin wide when Scott stared up at him in ~~fear~~ alarm, and continued speaking to his girlfriend about a cousin he knew nothing about.

The sneaky smiles the punks wore were knowing and amused, enjoying nothing more than making the boy between them curl in on himself in embarrassment and butterfly-filled lungs. He couldn’t lie to himself; he loved every second of it.

-

**Monday, 8:01.**

**Jay - > Evan**

**Jay:** hey can i ask a big favour?

 **Jay:** brocks sick and cant get me to school

 **Evan:** ill be there at 8.30

 **Evan:** :)

 **Jay:** youre a lifesaver

 **Jay:** thank you so much

**-**

Jon was halfway through breakfast when Brock called him, voice croaky and riddled with illness. He’d caught something over the weekend, his mother and himself both suffering together. He didn’t think he’d be in school for the entire week, and left Jon with no way of getting to there and back each day.

By the time he’d pulled on a random pair of jeans and his big yellow hoodie, his mother was answering three knocks at the door and her voice was meeting him halfway as he stumbled down the stairs with his bag over his shoulder. “I’m here!” he gasped. Catching his balance and rushing to the open door. “I’m ready. Let’s go.” He dropped a kiss to Riley’s cheek, grabbing onto Evan’s arm and pushing him back towards the steps.

“Where is Brock?” Riley called after him, distrustful watch as he tried to get them out of there as soon as possible.

Jon waved a hand dismissively over his shoulder. “He’s sick! Evan’s taking me. Don’t worry about it!” he called and shuffled past Evan, grabbing his wrist to pull him after him. The punk wore an amused smile, feeling the oversized yellow sleeves of the boy’s hoodie on his arm. When they got to the side of Evan’s bike, Jon pulled off his flower crown and tucked it into his bag. “Hey,” he breathed as Evan eased the spare helmet over his head for him, before putting on his own and tucking their bags into the compartment.

“You seem hasty.” The smile on his face couldn’t be seen as he got on the bike, but it could be heard around his words. Jon let out a giggly laugh, sitting down behind him and locking his arms around the punk.

The engine rumbled beneath them and the brunette let his chin rest on Evan’s shoulder, making it that slight bit easier to make sense of what he was saying. “You should have just texted me that you were outside!” he yelled, hearing Evan’s laugh as he started the bike.

“What do you mean?” he called, their helmets bumping. “I have to be polite so my future mom-in-laws don’t hate me!”

The further complaints Jon had ready on his tongue were washed right out as the boy’s words made him freeze. They were casual and friendly, nothing more than a playful jab yet the brunette found himself gaping for words like a fish out of water. Evan and him weren’t even boyfriends and the punk was already suggesting the two would end up marrying?

His rational thought told him not to be ridiculous, it was merely a joke, it meant nothing more than a joke. He couldn’t help but resume silence for the rest of the short drive, arriving at school and hoping his cheeks weren’t revealed as rosy beneath his helmet.

Upon pulling into the school carpark, Evan seemed oblivious to the curious stares. It wasn’t expected to see the punk turn up with another on the back of his bike. It wasn’t expected that it was a boy, _especially_ not such a cutesy, colourful boy like Jon. The punk barely noticed though, allowing Jon to hold his hand for balance while hopping off the bike and pulling off his helmet. His crown was set on his head by careful fingers and the punk pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before returning to the bike. Jon blushed scarlet and kept his blue eyes on the ground. Evan handed him his bag and Jon almost imploded when he threw a casual arm over the short boy’s shoulders as they walked towards the front entrance.

That made people stare.

Yet if the punk noticed it at all, he didn’t acknowledge it. “Want to come eat lunch with me today?” he asked, smile gentle and walk casual. Jon’s hoodie felt ten times warmer around him and he was just about ready to melt. Evan wasn’t embarrassed to be around him; wasn’t even embarrassed to be affectionate around him.

It made him smile to himself, hiding it subtly behind a yellow sleeve. “Yeah, I’d be happy to.”

Craig and Brian both leered at the pair as they walked into the music storeroom, chatting cheerfully about Evan’s sister. Jon mindlessly played with the punk’s fingers from where they sat hanging just above his chest. The arm still lay settled over his shoulders and he felt safer and happier than ever.

His British and Irish friends watched with matching grins, giggling between themselves as Jon shot them a pointed glare. When the two finally had to split, Evan brushed the hair from his face and left to get himself ready with a promise to see him at lunch.

The symphony class flew by, as did the period after. Recess was no different to usual besides an unusually quiet and supposedly “just tired” Lucas. Photography raced by and he found himself hovering near the cafeteria line at lunch, waiting and watching for Evan. He refused to admit he jumped when a ring-laden hand dropped on his shoulder.

“Hey.” He turned to John who managed a small smile in greeting, “Ev might be a bit late but he said you were sitting with us today. You don’t have to wait for him.”

The hand fell away, Jon glimpsing pale blue nails before watching the boy turn and return to his table. An offer remained in his place and after a moment’s hesitation, he inhaled deeply and followed. Smiles and indifferent looks greeted him at the punk’s table as he stammered out a short, “H-hi,” pulling out a seat and sitting down.

His uncertainty coated his skin and Tyler rolled his eyes slightly, Simone glaring at the giant before smiling at Jon. “Hey, sorry Ev’s late.” He shook his head at the apology and she smiled. “You’re welcome to sit with us anytime, by the way; you’re one of our friends now that you and Evan are dating.”

Dating. It was more of a question in his mind then a label. There hadn’t been any talk of what either boy wanted, no claims of titles or anything like that. They weren’t ‘dating’. They weren’t ‘boyfriends’. He felt inclined to correct her, uncomfortable in that seat. “I, er, we’re- Me and Evan aren’t d-dating,” he forced out. Marcel and Simone shared a look, crooked brows with conversation he couldn’t hear. “We’re not boyfriends, I don’t- I don’t think…?” The couple looked back to him, even Tyler giving him an odd look.

“You don’t think?” The repetition was posed like a question and Jon just stared at the pale-eyed boy. He felt and looked like a deer caught in headlights and was just about ready to melt into his seat.

“I- I don’t know-”

Marcel kicked the man beneath the table, Jon dropping his eyes with a redness in his cheek. He didn’t feel like he should have been there, didn’t feel like they wanted him there. A hand settled gently on his forearm and he met cool dark eyes.

“Don’t freak out, Tyler’s just an asshole.” Marcel had an air about him that oozed confidence and ease. His voice was smooth, his eyes were calm; Jon didn’t know how he did it but the brunette felt himself relaxing slightly beneath the gaze. “You don’t have to answer questions ‘n shit, it’s not any of our business.” His lips lifted in a reassuring smile and he squeezed the boy’s arm before letting him go. “You also don’t have to sit here if it makes you uncomfortable. I know it’s not your scene.”

Tyler averted his attention, huffing at whatever it was that was annoying him. No one spared him a glance. Jon dropped his attention back to the table, folding his fingers together in his lap as he nodded. “Thanks.” He didn’t think he had enough air in his lungs to get out anything more than that but no one else seemed bothered.

Before anyone else could start up conversation, the chair beside Jonathon’s was pulled out and the missing part of their pierced group appeared, smile on his face. The brunette immediately relaxed, Evan grinning around at his friends as he shuffled his chair closer to Jon’s, not thinking twice before slipping an arm around his waist. It fit there like it was meant to.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he mentioned, his words directly aimed at the boy beside him. Tyler huffed again, running a hand through his hair and drawing the Canadian’s attention. He pointed a finger at the two.

“I swear; if either of you start fucking kissin’ or being girly and gay ‘n shit, I’m gonna pay the bus driver to mow me down.” The words were sharp and distasteful, and his eyes were still cold, but for some reason he didn’t seem so pissed off. Pale eyes studied them for only a moment before Tyler’s attention was returned to his food and Evan was sitting upright with two fingers to his forehead.

He saluted, playful grin totally unaffected. “Yes Sir,” he commented, arm tightening around Jon as he spared the boy a teasing smile. Jon returned it, unable to resist and didn’t miss the soft look Simone shared with him. With Evan there, it was like all six of them could breathe a little easier.


	18. fresh air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lacking quality, hope the content makes up for it ^^

**18.**  

Lunch went smoothly. Evan’s arm remained around Jon’s waist the whole hour, his hand slipping beneath the hoodie to settle on top of his thin shirt, fingers curling around his hipbone. Jon had to focus on physically not melting.

Simone and Marcel chatted happily with them, John listening and adding comments here and there. David didn’t even look like he’d acknowledged Jon’s presence, while Tyler ignored them all. His attention was paid only to his phone as he ate. No one seemed bothered by it, his silence likely a usual thing for their group.

“You and your friends sit over on that table, don’t you?” Simone pointed over his head, the brunette turning and looking to where Brian and Craig were howling with laughter and Scotty seemingly passed out in his chair. A pinch of embarrassment hit him at the punks’ curious (and likely judgemental) watch but he nodded all the same, shrugging. Marcel looked more intrigued than unimpressed though and Simone nodded. “Are you and Scott close?”

He found a smile crawling onto his lips. The three had gone out that Saturday for coffee and according to Scotty it had gone well. “Yeah, didn’t you go on a date with him?” he inquired, hoping he wasn’t pushing boundaries.

The pair nodded. “I like him,” Marcel stated, eyes still focused to the table of idiots where Scotty’s giggly laughing could be heard distinctly. “We both do.” Brown hair swayed in a nod.

Light brown eyes focused on him, a question in their shimmering. “What does he like? Like, where would he want to spend time, what would he enjoy doing?”

“We want to go out with him more,” Marcel explained.

“But we’d hate to be bothering him or forcing him through anything that made him uncomfortable.”

Jon marvelled at the fact that they seemed to follow the same train of thought. The two shared a look for a moment before throwing their attention back to the boy in question, expressions seeping patience. He finished the last of his bread and brushed his crumbs off of his shirt. Where would Scott like to spend time…? “I think, er- I think he’d be happy with anything if it meant spending time with you two.” He shrugged, trying to keep his speaking as level as possible. His tendency to ramble and stutter crept up on him way more than usual when speaking to the punks. “He didn’t shuch- shut up about Saturday. Go to the, um, maybe the park or maybe play games with him and he’ll have fun doing anything.”

The two listened intently, Simone seeming to take it all in as Marcel hummed in thought. “Thanks,” he murmured, sharing an unreadable look with the girl who nodded.

Jon heard something clatter. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he saw his overexcitable friends silent, all watching in surprise as the youngest of their group hurried from the cafeteria, doors closing behind him. A moment of silence was shared as the table of bright colours and the table of leather and silver watched and waited, confusion and questions hovering in the air.

The first movement was made from the punks’ table, John hesitating for barely a moment before standing and following the boy out of the room, hands in his pockets. He vanished in seconds, and Jonathon met eyes with Craig from across the room. They both held the same questions and Craig shook his head at Jon’s raised shoulder.

They turned away.

He made to push his chair back, brows furrowed in concern. “M-maybe I should-“ but the arm around him kept him anchored, brown eyes reassuring.

“I have a feeling John wants to talk to him,” he explained, voice tender. “He’s been watching Lucas all lunch and he’ll know how to cheer the guy up; don’t worry. I promise you he’ll be fine.”

There was a moment of reluctance in pretty blue eyes before they dropped to the table, a hum caught in his throat as Evan held him tighter. He leaned against the Canadian and nodded. “I guess so; I just hope he’s okay.”

-

He didn’t know what was wrong with him. The whole day he felt a bit out of it; he’d assumed he just hadn’t slept so well. But the volume of the cafeteria and the enthusiasm of his friends turned out to be too much and he couldn’t stand sitting there for much longer. “I’m gonna go get some air,” dropped from his lips in a rush and he didn’t wait to hear responses or see reactions. He rushed from the room and found himself outside, walking over the grass with his hands in his pockets.

The walk from the cafeteria doors to the football oval seemed not to have been recorded in his memories. When he realised he was at the bleachers it felt like he’d only just stood up from his seat at the table; he didn’t even question it as he hopped up the metal steps two at a time. The seat was cold beneath him, second row from the top. He leant back against the bench just behind him and allowed his head to fall back, staring directly up at the sky.

He sighed and closed his eyes.

Breathe in. His lungs felt broader in the fresh air.

Breathe out. His hands were no longer shaking.

“You okay there?”

The voice jolted him out of his daze and Lucas jerked upright, gasp leaving his mouth as he met the pale eyes of John. His hand grabbed at his shirt, pressing his knuckles into his chest as he took a moment to catch his breath. “Holy _fuck_ ,” he swore, leaning back against the bench as John offered a lop-sided smile.

Thoughtlessly, Lucas shuffled aside and nodded at the space he made. John took the offer but left a noticeable gap between the two of them. He could tell the other was a bit freaked out and obviously escaped the crowded cafeteria for a bit of space. “Sorry man, didn’t mean to spook ya.” His voice was reassuring and honest.

The expected feeling of being on edge never appeared on the younger boy’s shoulders at the punk’s company. Instead, he found himself able to relax still, watching curiously as the punk produced his vape pen and twirled it around in his ring-loaded fingers.

He tore his eyes away and let his gaze drift across the field.

“You seemed a bit freaked out when you left; I thought you might want some company out here.” John didn’t push. He voiced his explanation without prodding or poking; accepting Lucas’ discomfort without asking questions. All he wanted was to offer a bit of comfort. Pink dusted Lucas’ cheeks. “Let me know if you want me to leave you be, of course,” he added as an afterthought, putting the pen to his lips and breathing in deeply.

Lucas didn’t even give his addition a second thought, more focused on his initial explanation. “You… Y-you noticed me leave?” he questioned, his lungs feeling tight and skin feeling warm. “And you, er- you followed me?”

He made eye contact with John, surprise glowing on his face in parted lips. The punk blinked, breathing the smoke out of his mouth. He looked away and shrugged. “’s hard not to.”

The teasing instinct pushed Lucas to shuffle a few inches closer to the John, not letting himself actually think about his actions as the punk glanced down at the reduced space between them. He imagined red-tinted skin above the collar of the blonde’s shirt. “Hard not to what; notice me or follow me?” It was a surprise to himself more than anything that he managed to keep his voice level. The fact that he didn’t stutter or stammer was shocking enough and his joking words flowed from his tongue like he was talking to a friend. A speck of pride glowed in his chest.

That speck blew out as John responded, “Notice you,”; voice serious and far less joke-y than Lucas had expected. He ducked his head, the eye-contact too intense for him as the pink on his cheeks darkened. So much for confident banter. “You didn’t answer my question: are you alright?” The punk didn’t linger on his words or Lucas’ embarrassment; something the boy was thankful for.

It gave him a second to recollect himself, carding fingers through his hair and trying to cool the temperature of the blood beneath his skin. He let his eyes fall to the lowest bench, following the silver that glinted in the sun as he thought to himself. “Yeah,” he answered, noticing John shift where he sat. “I’m alright.”

He told himself he’d only imagined the punk moving closer. A trick of his eyes, a trick of his mind: he’d seen what he wanted to. The sound of John inhaling deeply as he vaped calmed him for a moment, the blonde glancing over his shoulder as he waited.

Lucas shrugged. “Just gets a bit much for me sometimes,” he elaborated, feeling the need to explain himself. John glanced back to him, not saying anything as Lucas’ eyes followed the smoke as it drifted from his lips. “Needed some fresh air, I guess.” His comment was vague and more figurative than the blonde assumed.

“Shit,” he murmured, turning his head away and breathing out completely to expel all the smoke he could from his lungs. He tucked the pen away, washing his mouth out with fresh air instead as Lucas watched in surprise. When he turned back, his pale eyes wore apology and guilt. “You should have said something, dude. Sorry ‘bout that.”

John stopped vaping for him? Because he said he wanted fresh air? Lucas was definitely going scarlet as he shook his head. “No, no, you don’t need to do that. It wasn’t bothering me at all, I didn’t even think-” He caught himself rambling, caught the fond glint in John’s eyes. His lips pursed for a moment, glow of his cheeks bashful. “Thank you.”

The bottom of the bench was cool under his curled fingers and his smile was warm. John stood, the punk dropping to the next bench down. He ignored Lucas’ watch, sitting down and turning to let his feet hang beneath the bench Lucas sat on. The smile on his face was goofy, head resting on his arms which lay on top of one another on the seat a few inches to the right of Lucas’ knees. Both boys shared of a soft smile.

“Where’s your favourite place to go?”

“Huh?” The extremely intelligent response dropped to the metal structure beneath them and John rolled his eyes, something he seemed to do a lot. Lucas wondered if it was a conscious action.

The punk sat upright and waved his hand in small circles. “Your favourite place, like your happy place, ‘r something,” he explained, patiently looking up at the shorter boy. A hum sounded from his throat in thought, gaze drifting. John couldn’t take his eyes of him.

Dark eyes lifted to the sky, closing as comfort enveloped him. “My dad used to skate professionally when he got out of school,” he said. He tried not to react as gentle fingers pulled his hand away from the edge of the metal bench, peeling it from where he gripped the metal tightly. Words continued to drop from his lips, not stopping as those fingers intertwined with his. “He got me on the rinks as soon as I could run, kept me going when we moved here too. I think he always wanted me to follow in his footsteps but I never really liked hockey and the rink is just somewhere I can relax every once and a while. Skating is something I will never get sick of; my happy place has to be on an ice rink, it doesn’t matter where.”

Fingers curled in his loosely, rings cold against his skin as he let his hand hang from the edge of the seat. John didn’t say anything, nodding as Lucas guessed. The shorter boy stayed staring at the clouds above.

Lucas lifted the interlocked hands. The rings on John’s fingers were a range of thicknesses, most silver and some wearing little coloured stones. They were cold beneath his fingertips as he ghosted his other hand over the back of the one he held. He met John’s eyes and caught his lopsided smile like an infection.

“Thank you,” he murmured, dropping his eyes back to their hands. He wasn’t brave enough to hold the other’s hand as well as his gaze. His fingertips ran over the rings again. “For coming out here,” he elaborated, feeling his cheeks burn. “You… I’m glad I wasn’t alone.”

He pursed his lips. The hand in his tightened, dragging his attention to a genuine smile. No words were necessary and the punk stood. Their fingers stayed linked. “The bell will go off any minute now; I’ll walk you to your next class.” Lucas followed him as he lead the other to the steps, hand hovering just behind him so they could walk down without tripping and without breaking their linked fingers. When Lucas fell into step beside him, the hand fell from his and instead dropped around his shoulders. He held them both relatively close and Lucas felt safe. He felt happy and his smile didn’t leave his face until John was nodding goodbye at his class’s door, walking off to his own next lesson.

He breathed a little easier for the rest of the day.

-

**Monday, 19:32**

**Dat Boi - > Thirsty Hoes**

**Dat Boi:** how do i ask someone on a date

 **Dat Boi:** asking for a friend

 **Bitch Boi:** suk his dick

 **Het:** kiss his dicc

 **Slut:** the gud succ

 **Mom:** A date where and who?

 **Dat Boi:** thanks mom for being genuine

 **Dat Boi:** fucc the rest of you

 **Het:** fuccc you too

 **Dat Boi:** fucccc u more

 **Slave Driver:** shut the fuccccc up

 **Het:** :0

 **Slut:** :0

 **Dat Boi:** who do you think

 **Bitch Boi:** <:0

 **Slut:** what the fuck face is that

 **Bitch Boi:** urs

 **Mom:** where do you want to go with him?

 **Slut:** D:< bicc

 **Dat Boi:** ice rink

 **H2O:** u no he loves u when he takes u to the ice rink

 **Het:** lmao he doesn’t even take us to the ice rink

 **Slut:** rude bitch

 **Bitch Boi:** rude bicc*

 **Slut:** u right my bad

 **Mom:** maybe just ask him straight out? This is obviously important for you but don’t be shy

 **Mom:** it’s pretty obvious he’s into you

 **H2O:** he wants to steal your memes

 **H2O:** and post them everywhere

 **H2O:** and rhen suck ur dick too

 **Bitch Boi:** jon do you

 **Bitch Boi:** does your train of thought even exist

 **Bitch Boi:** it never sounds like it

 **H2O:** whats a trian of thought

 **Slave Driver:** -o-

 **Slave Driver:** ur all infuriating

 **Mom:** even me?

 **Slave Driver:** no brocky you’re the only one I can stand

 **Mom:** :D

 **Dat Boi:** im not shy im just

 **H2O:** terrified?

 **Slut:** petrified?

 **Bitch Boi:** paralysed with fear every time he looks at you?

 **Dat Boi:** …

 **Dat Boi:** im just nervous

 **Mom:** don’t be! he’ll definitely say yes to you and I can promise you that you’ll both have heaps of fun

 **Slave Driver:** mom being positive and encouraging is my kink

 **Het:** mom loving us more than hed love his own kids is my kink

 **Bitch Boi:** mom is my kink

 **H2O:** wow

 **Slut:** incest?

 **Bitch Boi:** I mean brock u fuckers

 **Mom:** do I need to change my name back to Daddy?

 **Bitch Boi:** pls no

 **Slave Driver:** pls yes

**-**

“Are you really that terminally ill that you can’t come to school?” Maybe if he ignores the huskiness of Brock’s voice and the constant sniffling, he could pretend the other boy wasn’t sick to begin with. He’d come up with a fever and had sent numerous photos to the groupchat displaying the red spots that decorated his face. The entirety of their friend group responded with several different responses of, “Stay the fuck away from me,” before the boy confirmed he wouldn’t be coming back to school for the rest of the week.

No one was looking forward to his absence but the relief that they weren’t all sick in bed too was mutual. Jon still wanted him to come to school. “I can’t, Jon; I’m sorry. I’m”—he choked out a cough and sniffled—“riddled with disease and this fever won’t leave me alone either. I just can’t come to school, and no, I can’t come see you either. Trust me: you don’t want this.”

The older boy whined loudly, throwing his feet off the edge of his bed and laying limp on the mattress, not having the energy to stand up. “I don’t want to be at school without you,” he grumbled, lips pouting and voice lowering to a pathetic rumble.

Brock’s fond smile could be heard through his words. “I’ll be back in no time next week when I’m not covered in spots and burning up, okay?” The Mom friend lived up to his name, reassurance coating his tone. Jon just wished the boy was there to rub his back soothingly and play with his hair. “You guys can manage four more days. What could go wrong?” Laughter touched at his question and Jon grunted, finally finding the effort to push himself up onto his feet.

“Don’t say that, or you’ll be eatin’ your own words.” He turned off the lights upstairs, calling a quick, “Goodnight Ma, ‘night Mom!” down the stairwell before shutting his door and throwing his dirty clothes in his wash basket.

Brock hummed happily. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry for jinxing it. Don’t worry too much, and give me a call if you need me,” he reminded the other, the sound of a door clicking from his side of the call alerting Jon his friend was also getting ready to turn in for the night. “Goodnight Jonathon,” he cooed, urging the other to return the cheerful tone.

“Night Mom.” Flat and stubborn. Brock laughed, the sound nasally and painful to listen to. Jon didn’t mention anything and didn’t tell the other of the smile on his face. “Call tomorrow night?” The small affirmative hum was heard and Jon nodded to himself. “Okay, don’t let me forget. Sleep well.”

-

Tuesday felt surreal. Despite his hopes and unrealistic wishes, Brock was still ill and Riley still seemed suspicious that Evan was knocking on her door in the morning (doing exactly what Jon had told him not to do, of course). The Canadian only laughed at Jon’s scolding, dropping a kiss to the boy’s forehead before he pulled on his helmet and helped the brunette onto the back.

“Why do you have to be difficult?” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around the punk. The vibrations of his laughter mimicked the rumbling of the engine beneath him and he just hummed softly to himself throughout the drive.

In the school parking lot Jon couldn’t help but feel the curiosity of other students. Prying eyes that asked questions but refused to vocalise them should the intimidating punk react violently. The thought seemed ridiculous to Jon now that he knew the boy, yet he knew what it was like to be afraid of him, of any of the punks. “People always stare,” he muttered, jumping off the back and pulling off his helmet. He froze up as Evan almost hovered above him, presence against his back. “Wha-” He cut himself short, turning to have calloused fingertips settle on the side of his face.

Soft brown eyes. Reassuring, but filled with amusement. “Let’s give them a reason to stare then,” he whispered, unable to hide his grin. He allowed a moment for Jon to respond, to refuse or turn away in embarrassment.

There was no way in Hell he would, bunching the tight shirt in a hand and accepting the lips on his. A spike of energy, perhaps adrenaline, touched at his nerves and left a buzz in its wake. The idea that more eyes were watching and murmurs were being shared because they kissed was both concerning and exciting.

Evan didn’t give two shits about what any other person said or thought. That was the attitude the punk wore. He didn’t care if people didn’t like him, didn’t care if people didn’t agree with him, didn’t care if people judged him; he did as he pleased. Jon couldn’t help the feeling of euphoria, the kiss a metaphorical “Fuck you!” to the assholes who knew how to do nothing else but talk shit.

He loved the heat on his body, the heavy arms around his waist, the smile against his lips. He loved it.

When they broke apart, Evan handing the boy his bag and adjusting the pink and yellow crown on his head, Jon didn’t spare a thought to the kids who whispered and stared. They averted their eyes when Evan looked in their direction, a mutual fear of the boy both unrealistic and unnecessary. The punk didn’t care; his smile never left his face and Jon’s never left his either.

They parted while changing for sport, Tyler intercepting the brunette the second he stepped into the gym. He couldn’t deny the jump of fear he felt when the icy-eyed man pulled him to the side by his shirt. He just gawked, watching Evan enter the gym and instantly zone in on him. Before he could follow, Daithi stopped him, speaking inaudibly and sparing a glance over his shoulder.

“Hey.” Tyler snapped his fingers, drawing his attention. Those eyes seemed to study his own but he stood comfortably and unmenacing. Jon nodded in acknowledgement, still frozen and halfway towards the ‘flight’ option of his fight or flight instincts. “That kid’s back: the asshole who John fucked up the other week. He’s a dick so just be wary of him. It’s likely he’ll try to start shit again but any of us will fuck him up for you if we need to.”

The offer was solid and true, voice unwavering at the giant spared a glance over his shoulder. Jon tried not to show his shock too obviously, stuttering out a response. “Er, tha-thank you,” he managed, Tyler’s gaze studying him once again. “I’ll be wary.”

The punk had straight up offered to beat the shit out of the boy, Kyle. His cold nature toward Jon didn’t seem to have directly changed but although his broad shoulders were still menacing, he stood in front of Jon with a “relaxed” stance, blocking the boy from view of half the gym. It was more protective than offensive and Jon glanced over, meeting eyes with Evan.

His expression was unreadable, eyes set and jaw locked. He didn’t look away from Jon as Tyler nodded at him. “Don’t be afraid of speaking to us either, we care about Evan and he cares about you.” His final words hovered for a moment, caught by Jon and not needing a conclusion. He understood him well enough as the pierced face turned and the boy walked back towards the group of his friends.

Jon gravitated back towards them also, almost attaching to Evan’s side as the punk threw an arm over his shoulder. The action was casual but the look Marcel shared with John was enough to know they could feel the tension in the air.

Though the brunette refused to look, he could feel a glare from across the room, snarling and sneering in his direction, in Evan’s direction. It was threatening and he just huddled closer to the punk. He was safe with him at least.


	19. hazel eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: homophobic slurs, homophobic violence, vile/degrading dialogue, sexual/degrading dialogue - viewer discretion advised  
> \--  
> 1\. im so sorry  
> 2\. have fun!

**19.**

“Come sit with me at lunch?” Sitting with the punks was, albeit terrifying, enjoyable. Jon’s friends on other hand, were moderately less terrifying and he wanted Evan to get to know them too, even if they could be insufferable at times.  

Evan’s smile was fond when he nodded and he squeezed Jon’s arm lightly, not needing to use his words to say goodbye. They parted outside of Jon’s science class, Evan nodding at Tyler before they had to file into class. Brian sat beside Jon in Brock’s absence and they shared a silent look as they sat down. Both of them remained highly aware of the punk sitting behind them; his presence seemed more noticeable than usual.

On his way to recess was when he first saw _him_ , walking the other way in the hall. Hostility reared its ugly head in those hazel eyes. Thin lips pulled back in a sneer as he passed. Kyle shoved against Jon’s shoulder and continued on like nothing happened.

 _He’s just a dickhead; all bark, no bite,_ he reassured himself. _That look meant nothing_.

He didn’t tell anyone of the encounter; reminding himself it really wasn’t anything. He tended to overthink. That was all it was. Overthinking.

-

“I gotta see my teacher about something; meet you at your table?” Evan lifted his fingers to play with the flowers on Jon’s head. His smile was gentle and irresistibly contagious.

Jon crouched by his instrument case, packing it all up as the last of his peers drifted from the room. Humming filled the space they left behind, nimble fingers moving things around and lifting things up, searching for a missing violin bow. Beneath the case, beneath the shelves, anywhere it could have fallen on the floor. It refused to be found.

“Where did I leave you…” he murmured, brushing off his jeans as he stood. Maybe somebody took it by mistake? Or handed it in to his teacher?

He pushed the door open, glancing around his feet. Stepping inside. Door clicking shut.

Hazel eyes.

His heart jumped to his throat.

Kyle sat perched on the edge of the grand piano. His eyes glinted when Jon noticed them, leering smirk on his lips; the same one he’d seen an hour earlier. He sat up straight, and passed the bow from hand to hand, watching Jon glance at the other two boys in the room. Alongside them Kyle looked thin, but his ego showed he thought himself just as menacing. He didn’t need the muscle when they could do the dirty work for him.

His smirk widened as Jon’s eyes returned to his, worried and fearful. “Hey Jonny-Boy, finally came lookin’ for your stupid stick?”

 _Fuck_.

-

“Evan.” Lucas balanced his chair on its back two legs, waving a hand over his head as the boy he called out to looked over to him. He’d been hovering by the lunch line with his tray for several minutes, glancing to the door every few seconds in hopes of, he assumed, seeing Jon walk in.

Brian waved the punk over also, brown eyes slightly hesitant as he strode over to their table and gratefully sat down in the chair the Irish boy kicked out. Seeing as Brock was ill, there an empty seat just for him beside Jon’s.

The punk opened his mouth, Lucas noting the silver stud. “No, we haven’t seen him yet.” He didn’t even let the question be asked, shaking his head. Evan’s lips pursed, tugged down into a frown.

“It’s not unusual, he’s easily distracted,” Suni explained but Evan wasn’t one to worry much. He was only curious, hoping the boy would get there soon. “He probably got caught by Mr Cole and had to run an errand.”

The punk nodded and Craig flashed a smile. “He won’t be longer than twenty minutes. You can just wait for him with us”

He returned the smile, leaning back in his seat and sending a last glance to the door. “Thanks guys.” Lucas nodded, drinking his juice-box in thought. None of them seemed worried. There was never a need to with Jon. With his sharp tongue and dirty mouth, he could handle himself. He was fine.

-

Jon was not fine. He felt like a mouse beneath the glare of lions and had to resist the urge to run and hide. It took him a few seconds to realise the trap he’d fallen into. With everyone at the cafeteria and no one needing to come to the music block for at least another hour; it was just him, three hostile smirks and a pair of hazel eyes.

He was cornered.

His eyes trained on his violin bow as Kyle pushed himself off the piano and onto his feet. He drew his fingers up and down the hairs of the bow, rubbing them between his fingertips and watching Jon’s reactions closely. His top lip quirked in a filthy sneer, breaking a single hair off one end of the bow. Jon flinched and his eyes shone with satisfaction.

“Please don’t break it.” Jon’s voice was fearful. His voice was small. _He_ was small.

The boys only laughed, Kyle pushing his chest out with a scoff. “God, you’re so fucking pathetic.” The look on his face was one of disgust and humour, glaring down at Jon like a cockroach or a dying moth yet swelling with excitement at the thought of tearing off his legs. A sick kind of amusement.  

Jon watched, fingers clenched into fists. Pluck. Pluck. Pluck. Pale hairs fell one by one, hanging dead and only connected to one end of the bow. Those cold hazel eyes never left his face, each broken thread seeming to break something in him.

After a few seconds, Jon’s eyes lifted. “Is this expensive?” He waved it like a wand, teasing. “D’you think your dyke mom’s will be able to afford another, or are you just as poor as you are fucking gross?”

Jon thought his jaw might break at how hard he clenched his teeth. Anger bubbled beneath his fear as cackling laughter filled his ears. He was just about ready to throw punches himself, but against three? He had no chance.

He stayed silent, knowing that that was smarter than snapping at the asshole and defending his mothers.

Kyle glanced at the guy to his right who sneered back, encouraging the cruelty. They prowled closer and Jon could practically see them gnashing their teeth; hyenas looking to play with their food. He shuffled half a step back, crossing his forearms over his stomach in what little protection he could give himself, what little comfort he could provide.

“I think it’ll be an improvement to the symphony, don’t you boys?” Cocky. Egotistical. Narcissism at its finest. The two sidekicks laughed lowly, nodding with eager eyes and bared teeth. Bony fingers slid between the hair and the wood, curling slowly. He made a show of it, aware of the close watch, the mouth that willed to say something but knew better. Nothing would change it, nothing would help.

The sound of the thick thread tearing from the wood resonated in Jon’s brain, overwhelming every other thought he had. He watched, helpless, the hair hanging from the bow in defeat. Laughter swelled in his ears, in his thoughts, in his lungs. Blue eyes sharpened in hatred and disgust.

These assholes had no right to do this. “What do you fucking want,” he snarled, sharp tone catching them off guard. He watched as their laughter fell, watched as Kyle stepped forward, shoulders squared and sneering.

He raised his arm before Jon could react, swinging, and that cackling filled the brunette’s ears as the pointed end struck his cheekbone. It held enough force to snap his head to the side, feet stumbling back to catch himself as his face lit on fire, boiling beneath the skin, charring his freckles. His mouth opened in a silent cry and when he drew his fingers away from his face, they were wet, hot and red.

He didn’t have time to form a second thought, Kyle not pausing for a moment to let him collect himself. The blonde was in his face, those same fingers that tore his bow apart grasping a handful of his shirt and holding him at a height where his feet could barely touch the ground. Fleeting attention focused on his toes; attention that didn’t last.

Getting punched in the face was like swallowing a shockwave, feeling it rebound and resonate all the way down his throat and pool in his stomach like lava. The way he was held in place at his chest gave him no room to absorb the force by stumbling back. Instead his face took it all, head snapping too far back, far too quickly. His neck cracked, a headache exploding behind his ears.

He wanted to scream, the pain filling his mouth with heat, skin crawling with fire-ants. All that left his mouth was a whimper. All that he could hear was fucking laughter.

Kyle’s face stained his eyelids, smug satisfaction glowing at the weakness of the small boy in front of him. He never stopped sneering. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he growled, voice grating claws down his chest and opening him up. Everything inside him fell to his feet and he tried to blink the blackness from his eyes. “Don’t even think about speaking to me like that, you filthy fucking _faggot_.”

His knees hit the ground.

He’d never felt heavier, every bone in his body a magnet to the earth below. He held himself up with his arms but stared with wide eyes at the floor beneath his fingertips. The pain throbbing from his cheekbone was relentless and he couldn’t focus on anything other. He couldn’t breathe in around the pain and tears splattered on the back of his hands before he even noticed he was crying.

_Filthy fucking faggot._

His face hurt so fucking much.

“What do you want from me?” He felt pitiful. His anger had gone from a raging fire to smoking coals and the boys before him were ready to dance over his remains until he was nothing but charred wood. He was terrified and couldn’t raise his head. He didn’t let himself.

Kyle seemed to know how to fix that.

Jon flinched back as new white shoes stopped directly in front of him. He clenched his eyes shut, receding in on himself and trying to ignore the shaking of his arms. Fingers brushed at the top of his head and he ducked lower, impulsively looking to put distance between him and his predator.

There was a second of silence, a pause in the moment where Jon released a shaky breath. Then the steadiness was broken. Those fingers dove into his hair in a show of control, knocking his flower crown to the ground as though it wasn’t even there in the first place. A cry split from his mouth as knuckles pressed hard against his scalp and the hair tangling around his fingers was yanked and pulled.

His head was jerked back, headache spreading beneath his touch. Blue hid behind closed eyelids and he could feel anger pressing in close all around him, suffocating him. He couldn’t avoid it. “Open your eyes.” Freezing words. Fingers tightened. His scalp screamed in pain.

He refused.

The back of a hand hit his other cheek, forcing those eyes wide open. “What do I want?” Kyle returned his free hand to his pocket, bent at the middle like the interaction was casual. Like he didn’t have Jon kneeling before him like a fucking slave, pulling his head back to show off the tears that swam in those oceanic eyes.

“I want,” he pulled Jon’s head back further, testing just how far he could be pushed, “for you and your little punk bodyguards to pay for my broken nose.”

With a final yank, he threw Jon’s head forward, sending him back to his hands and knees and taking his time to circle the small boy. Jon tucked his head down, face crumpling. He wanted to scream. He felt sick. The cut on his face hurt more than anything, bruise forming beneath it from the first hit he’d taken. His scalp ached and the headache that spread thin over the expanse of his head throbbed relentlessly.

“So where are your little fag guardians now, huh?” His voice spelled out sickness, each word vile and spat from his tongue like poison. Jon clamped his tongue between his teeth and swallowed the sob that threatened to crawl up his throat. “Heard the tall fucker telling you I was back this morning. Did he tell you to be careful? Did he promise to _protect_ you? Is he the one you’ve been sucking off behind the fucking school?”

He was definitely going to throw up. “We weren’t talking about you.” The lie shook as it left his lips, unsure of itself and bad at hiding.

One of those white shoes found a footrest in the centre of Jon’s back and he choked on a whimper as the pressure increased. The shaking of his arms was nowhere near strong enough to hold him and he crumbled, falling forward and meeting the cool floor with his burning cheek. The shoe pressed harder and his chest stuttered in unsteady gasps and sobs.

Kyle leant down, hovering just above him. The smirk in his voice didn’t need to be seen. “You’re just as bad a liar as you are a waste of space.” Pain twisted the skin at his back as Kyle ground his heal down on his spine. A cry worked its way from Jon’s lungs but he held it back as the weight retreated. “Get up.”

He felt like a stray cat, there for someone else’s sadistic entertainment.

Reluctance held him down, slowing his movement as he sat up to obey. It felt as though he was coated in dirt and filth, not saying a thing as he did what he was told. A part of him screamed and yelled at him for complying.

By the time he’d gotten one foot beneath him, one beefy sidekick grabbed his arm and hauled him ungracefully to his feet. The hand stayed around his upper arm, anchoring him in place, and fingers threaded through the hair at the back of his head once again. Those fingers, however, were thick and controlling, pointing Jon in the direction he had to focus his attention. He was denied the possibility of keeping his eyes on the ground. Kyle just grinned, both hands in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

A second hovered between them where the blonde just studied him; watched the blood dye his skin red and tears catch in the torn skin. The sting of the salt wasn’t even felt beneath the agony of his scalp. The bones of his face felt aflame beneath the skin and muscle, especially aching beneath hazel eyes.

“You’re such a waste.” Jon watched, silent, as the blonde bent over and swiped the flower crown off the ground. His heart leapt, seeing it in those cruel hands, but he bit back his words as Kyle looked up at him. “Do you like looking like a bitch? D’you think it makes you look for fuckable? Maybe one of those punk faggots can pretend you’re a chick and have their way with you, is that what you want?”

He remained silent, trying to push those words away and ignore them. They didn’t mean anything. They didn’t know anything.

Kyle looked over the little halo in his hands curiously and Jon didn’t want to watch. Hazel eyes stared him down and he felt his heartache as those fingers tore one yellow rose from the band. Petal by petal. They collected at his feet. Another rose; pink, this time. Petal. Petal. Petal. Rose. He pulled each and every flower head from its place, crumpling them in his fingers and leaving their remnants weeping at his feet. The hand at the back of Jon’s head didn’t let him look away. The headache behind his eyes didn’t let him close them.

“It’s Fong though, right?”

Jon’s head was yanked back up, unable to look at the destruction of his flower crown. Kyle studied him closely.

His grin formed in twisted amusement. “He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he? You’re gonna run right back to him and cry at his feet. I’ll bet you let him fuck you whenever he wants.” Filthy. Filthy. Filthy. Filthy. “You’re such a fucking whore, aren’t you?”

He couldn’t help himself, he couldn’t stop the bite in his tone. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

All three laughed like they’d never heard anything funnier. He just waited, begging for the bell to go or for someone to appear, someone to help him. The hold on his hair didn’t loosen at all and that nagging agony spread like a virus through each lobe in his brain.

Kyle grabbed his shirt with both hands, pulling him out of the other boy’s hold. He laughed in his face. “So you’re his little fuck-doll!” It was as though such an idea was absolutely hysterical. Kyle ate up the thought with a hunger only satiated by someone else’s suffering. “You just get on your knees and beg him to fuck you, don’t you!”

Jon remained mute. Denying it would mean nothing to anyone in that room but watching the malice in those eyes return, he couldn’t drown his fear.  

“You’re so fucking disgusting, I can’t wait to fuck you up.” The snarl was vicious and it marked the beginning of something awful. The analogue clock on the wall read 12:45. Lunch ended at 1:15.

The hands in his shirt yanked his top half down and Kyle’s knee dug deep into his gut. A soundless cry fell to the carcass of his flower crown and the hold on him loosened. He gasped for air, mouth opening and closing in desperation, winded and hurting. Hazel eyes flashed, one hand pulling away. Jon flinched, arms snapping around his stomach in a helpless attempt to protect his ribs. That wasn’t where the next hit landed. Instead, white knuckles drove straight to his neck.

A music stand stopped him from catching himself and he didn’t know what to focus on as he fell to his arse. The hit slammed him with just as much shock as it did agony and his hands flew to the base of his neck, his respiratory system under reconstruction. There was too much to take in, his senses felt number; he couldn’t focus on a single thing.

The nothingness in his chest of malfunctioning lungs. The throbbing of his headache. The laughter in his ears. Those hazel eyes. Kyle had shoved a ball of plastic into his mouth and forced him to swallow it. It remained in his throat as a constant reminder.

Tears flooded down his cheeks.

“Ple-ease,” he croaked, his throat folded in on itself. All three hyenas cackled and crooned, drinking in the sight of the weak teenager.

Panic soared as white shoes stomped closer, wide cold eyes excited. Jon had never felt so scared before, kicking his feet in desperate hopes of moving away; trying his best to put distance between them. More words, words of pleading and begging to be left alone; the ball in his throat blocked their passage and he shrieked as Kyle slammed his foot down on Jon’s ankle.

It twisted in a way it wasn’t supposed to, electricity shooting up his right leg.

Laughing. Laughing. Laughing.

He stood over him, bent down with that grin on his lips. Wrapping a hand over the lower half of the boy’s face, digging fingertips into the hollows of his cheeks. He lifted Jon’s head just above the ground, feeding on the terror in pools of blue. The front of his knuckles met the centre of his face, a snap sounding from his nose; heat, wetness, agony seeping from it. Another cry of pain, muffled by the palm of his hand.

“Y’know, I would say I feel sorry for your stupid whore moms for taking in such fucking trash like you,” he growled, dropping to his knees and hovering over Jon’s stomach. He watched each tear streak down his face, fear filling each one. He leaned in close. “But seeing as they’re just as disgusting as you, all three of you deserve to be fucking strung up and gutted.”

Jon was flooded with a lot of different feelings, held down on the floor with blood leaking from his cheek and nose. Legible thoughts didn’t have space to be heard, but among the panic and fear and utter desperation, he could feel the underlying boiling anger swell. As he was pulled further upright by his collar, he decided there was only one way this break period would end and no matter what he did or said he wouldn’t get out of it any better.

So shoving his hands beneath him to hold himself up, he pushed into Kyle’s space, noticing the flare of disgust in those hazel fucking eyes, and snarled with all the hatred he could manage. “Don’t talk about my moms like that, _you_ _fucking cunt_.” He forced his lips back, teeth bared in some sort of mix between a snarl and a grin; a challenge. He watched fury reflect back to him, licking his lips and tasting iron. “Fuck you,” he spat.

“You’re fucked,” hazel eyes snarled and Jon swallowed his pain stubbornly.

Twenty minutes. That was how long Jon was surrounded by the three boys in his year. He lost count of how many hits he’d taken. Punches to the nose, to the mouth, to the throat. His solar plexus had gone numb, lungs feeling permanently shut down.

The entire twenty minutes dragged on for days, though Jon only remembered bits and pieces as he lay in his bruised and bloodied skin. He remembered curling up, hands over his head and knees to his chest, feet slamming against his back, against his shins, against the back of his head and neck and tailbone.

Words were spat with degradation and hatred. Repeated mentions of “fucking faggots” and “Fong” and “deserve to be fucking slaughtered”. He took each snarl with bitten lips and blood on his tongue, keeping his eyes squeezed shut and words tied away.

He didn’t give them the satisfaction.

Not even when he was held down by his hands and feet, the heals of expensive shoes slamming down and down and down again on his chest and stomach and once on his throat. The feeling of being winded became familiar to him in a matter of twenty minutes and he learnt how to cope with the hollowing sensation.

Unable to breathe through his bruising throat. Unable to fill his trampled lungs. Unable to smell or breathe in anything other than blood and tears and agony.

He remembered how they left, out of breath with the beating they’d delivered. They pulled his hair and suffocated him until he obeyed and opened his eyes. He saw blood spots on Kyle’s face from where he’d been up close and personal, snarling and growling disgusting words in Jon’s ear, slamming fist after fist to his chest until he was choking on the blood in his mouth and spitting it out in hopes of replacing it with oxygen. He saw bruises on the boy’s knuckles, bruises that he’d spread everywhere he could access; Jon’s face and throat and torso.

That smug satisfaction was still hateful, still disgusted. “Tell anyone what happened and I’ll burn your fucking house down. I’ll do this to your stupid faggot friends too, and those fucking goths.” The threat was real, whether Kyle was willing to act on it at all or not. Jon knew better than to test him.

He didn’t respond. His silence had lasted for so long, he would not break it.

Cold, cold eyes. “Do you hear me, you whore?” he growled, swiping at his face with curled fingers. His nails drew white lines across his already bleeding cheek and Jon still refused to speak. Instead, he just nodded, barely flinching as a furious hand grabbed at his hair and swung him back to the ground. He fell to his side, pressing a hand to his scalp in hopes of dulling the pain. “Pathetic.” A sneer of disgust.

Jon listened as they left, and the door slammed shut.

Silence.

He didn’t know how long he laid there. He didn’t know when exactly he found the energy to move, rolling onto his stomach and pushing himself to his feet. The way his knees shook; it was a miracle he even managed to walk five steps.

Wood and broken string in his hands. He’d started crying harder, sniffling in the silence of the room with no one else to snarl and cackle. It was impossible not to let those broken sobs tear their way out of his sore lungs. He sagged against the piano. Breathing hurt.

1:07. He had eight minutes until the bell was due, until students would be spreading around the school heading to their next classes. The Music block was going to flooded. His fingertips drifted over his face and throat, featherlight and timid. They were painted red when they fell away, blood staining his fingerprints, staining his tongue, staining his sleeves

It didn’t register that he’d even left the side of the piano until he’d slipped his bag onto his aching back. His muscles hurt from curling up and tensing. They ached and whined for him to sit down and stop moving; to just lay down and give up. It was the easiest way out.

He refused, pushing on and finding an exit away from the population of the lunch break. No one else noticed him as he left the school building and shuffled to the carpark. He hobbled home on a swollen ankle; each step blurring together, not a single thought in his head understandable. He dragged his broken bow along behind him, bag too heavy for him to hold for much longer. Both Alice and Riley’s cars were in the driveway.

Keys under the flower pot. Door unlocked and locked again behind him. Soft humming from the kitchen, a house of warmth and comfort. He felt out of place, standing with heavy limbs and bruised skin.

He was going to throw up.

“Riley?” Alice called, humming paused. Jon’s eyes lifted to the ceiling as he heard a door shut above. Something clattered in the kitchen. “Is that you?”

He held his breath, taking a small step back. He should have been quieter.

Before he could stop it, his bag fell from his shoulder, thumping to the ground and announcing his presence further. Feet appeared at the turn in the stairs, a pencil skirt and white blouse, the tangle of wild red hair. She froze on the third step when her eyes landed on Jonathon.

He just stared back, watching her eyes widen. Surprise. Confusion. Realisation. _Infuriation_.

“Who?” Her voice was boiling hot, bubbling over in rage. He flinched, and she dropped down the rest of the stairs, storming up to him. “Who the fuck did this to you?” He shied, dropping his head. Riley set her hands on his shoulders, trying to draw his crying eyes up. “Baby, you’ve gotta tell me who did this.” She softened. He couldn’t help the cringe as his other mom gasped behind her.

“Jon?” she whispered and it hurt to hear the way her throat closed up with tears. “Jon, honey, what happened?”

There was nothing he could say, nothing he could tell them, nothing that could explain the mess of a person that stood before them. How much pain they must have felt to see their baby boy, bloodied and bruised. “I’m sorry.” His voice broke, hoarse with strain. Alice pulled him close. She held onto him tightly, allowing him to crumble in her soft arms. “I- I didn’t…” _Nothing to say_.

He crumbled but couldn’t linger. The bubbling in his stomach, the sickness that swelled beneath his bruising. He broke out of her arms and staggered to the door by the stairs. Throwing it open, his knees hit the tiles and his hands grasped the edge of the toilet seat.

All the vile words, all the hateful touches; he threw it all up, emptied his stomach and slumped against the cold toilet bowl.


	20. busted lip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://chinxino5.tumblr.com/post/171721023828/thank-you-cute  
> -  
> if you follow this fic please take a few moments to read this! just a small appreciation post ^^

**20.**  

Jon hadn’t come to lunch. Evan only realised when the bell rung throughout the cafeteria and cut their conversation short that the shorter boy had never appeared. Suni sent him a sympathetic look, collecting her things, while Lucas glanced around curiously.

“Weird,” he said. “He must have really got caught up with something. Maybe he got dragged to detention?”

Evan hummed in thought, looping his bag over his shoulder, and glanced to the empty seat beside him. It hadn’t moved the whole hour. “I’ve got History with him last period, I’ll see him then.” The rest of them nodded, not knowing where their friend could have gotten too. A slight twinge of concern itched at his thoughts but he brushed it back.

He’d see the boy after another hour. Jon would have a reasonable explanation to why he hadn’t showed up at lunch. There wasn’t anything to be worried about

An hour later he waited in History class, watching the door remain shut and his hopes slowly diminish.

Five minutes… Maybe he was late?

The teacher called the roll, addressing everyone no different than usual. Jon’s name was called but only heard silence. “He’s here today,” Evan responded as the teacher looked to the empty seat beside him. He left the inferred claim that the boy would be in class soon hover between them and the teacher continued calling out names.

Ten minutes… He must be running errands, or speaking to someone about something important.

The teacher had long since sent through attendance, no doubt leaving a red cross beside Jonathan’s name. Evan still waited with his hands in his lap. Brown eyes flickered. Teacher. Empty chair. Closed door. Teacher. Empty chair.

Thirty minutes… He wasn’t coming to class.

Evan didn’t hear a word of the class instructions. He didn’t open his booklet or laptop. His desk remained empty. His hands stayed in his lap.

Forty-five minutes… Evan had to do something.

The message was short and simple. He reread it five times, sent it, and reread it twice more. He checked the screen at least twenty times in the remaining fifteen minutes of the class and hovered by his motorbike after the bell until the school was almost empty. Jon didn’t appear. Jon didn’t reply to his text.

He drove home with reluctance holding on around his waist instead of the brunette he adored so dearly.

-

**_Tuesday, 14:57._ **

**Evan - > Jay.**

**Evan:** where are you? did something happen? please call me after school x

-

Jon threw up four times before his insides settled. Alice stayed by his side, trying not to show her own tears as she gently rubbed his back. The bathroom was forgiving.

Alice helped him stand, his legs shaking and the pain of his ankle needy. It cried for attention with every step, relieved when he found rest sitting on the coffee table. Wild red hair looked more frazzled than ever around those electric blue eyes. Riley held a glass of water and a number of different medication packets in between her fingers.

“What’s hurting?” Alice was all soft edges, taking the packets and holding them where he could read their labels, see what was for which kinds of pain. Her hand raised but hovered between them, uncertain. The urge to rub his back, or shoulder, or touch his face, flashed in her rich brown eyes, yet she didn’t know where was safe. She didn’t know where she could lay her hand without hurting him. So she didn’t touch him at all.

He didn’t know either. The headache that clung to him was agonising and it hurt to even raise a hand. His finger brushed against his temple, indicating his source of pain, and he accepted a pill and the glass of water. How pathetic he felt, watching the water within the glass jitter from the shaking of his hands. Riley took it from him, eyes of sympathy, and lifted it to his lips.  

He swallowed the two sweet pills, washing them down his aching throat. Every time he swallowed, he could feel the swelling, he could feel the bruising. Every time he inhaled, his lungs pushed against aching ribs. No matter how much time passed since he last took a winding punch to the gut, the gaping feeling of being breathless lingered.

“Baby?” He looked up, the mere action of lifting his head too much strain for him. Alice’s eyes watched his. She held down her worry and fear; she remained collected. “We have to clean you up.” Tender. Careful. She tiptoed around him and his bruises. “Come on.”

Both women helped him stand, Alice leading him slowly with one hand. She glanced sadly at his feet, his ankle sending throbs of pain up his leg with each step. His limp was impossible to hide.

They took him to the main bathroom, bigger than the one just beside the stairs. Riley turned on the lights and fetched a small towel. A small murmur of, “Arms up, sweetie.”

He watched their hearts break in their shimmering eyes.

It was no mystery why when he caught sight at himself in the mirror. Red, purple, blue; his pale skin was stained with a massacre.

“Fucking Hell.” Riley turned away. Her brows furrowed, lips pulled tight in a painful grimace.

“Oh baby.” Alice just stared, eyes watery and fingers shaking.

Bruises bloomed across the expanse of his torso. The focus of it was very blatantly his abdomen, the soft part above his naval and just below his ribcage. Blackened purple had been painted on thick, bruise laying over bruise laying over bruise, heels slamming down, and down, and down. The rest of his chest and back fluctuated in its colouring. Light purples, greens, a little bit of blue: variations of darkness. All of it hurt.

The bruising of his throat didn’t need to be seen to know it was bad. Every time he swallowed, or spoke, or _breathed_ , he was reminded of the thick swelling that pressed down on his oesophagus and trachea. Knuckles had abused soft skin, the heel of expensive white shoes. The mirror reflected what he felt, reflected the sickly purple that bloomed on other parts of him too like unwanted weeds that just didn’t fucking die.

He didn’t look like his lungs should have still been working. He didn’t know if he even wanted them to anymore.

Alice took a moment to herself, a moment to close her eyes and bite down on her bottom lip. When she was calm, when she opened her eyes, she set to work. “Ri, wipe away the blood, be super careful with the bruising. I’m going to get the kit.” She rushed from the room and Jon gathered the courage to look to his Mom.

She didn’t meet his eyes, watching water squeeze from the blue cloth in his pale fingers.

“I’m sorry.” She flinched and turned. Two different shades of blue clashed, mixing pain with sympathy. His voice croaked and strained at the smallest of sounds but he needed to speak. He had to. “’e broke my bow, my violin bow. And my flowers. I couldn’t- I couldn’t stop him.”

She shook her head and knelt before him, fingers gentle on his bruised jaw as she looked closely at the torn skin on his cheek. “Shh,” she whispered, the warm towel wiping the tracks of blood away and cleaning the wound with as soft and gentle a touch as possible. The wet cloth was placed on his Cupid’s bow and Jon looked past his mother as she wiped the blood from his lips and nose. “Don’t even think about apologising.” She held a stern tone of love in her voice, caring but realistic. Her lips pressed featherlight to his forehead.

He continued to look past her, left eye swelling with every second. Blue and purple bruising beneath each pool of ocean water. Red glowed over his freckled skin and the gash on his cheekbone reflected dying flames from within his capillaries, but thankfully was no longer bleeding. On the bone beneath the open cut, the first hit he’d taken that afternoon left its own mark, proud. Purple and red growing as though feeding from the open gash. Thin red lines lingered where Kyle had left scratches across his face.

His lip was busted in two places, his tongue tasting nothing other than iron. Every bone of his face was pulsing, a dull throb of pain, a reminder of what he’d endured. Though fortunately, the relief of the pain medication was beginning to chase away his headache. He rested his eyes shut. He didn’t want to see anything anymore.

“Jon, honey,” Riley murmured, pushing his hair back. “You have to tell me who did this to you.” Reassuring. She softened her hard edges. She quietened her piercing rage.

But Jon swung his head from side to side, refusing to even consider it. Her thin hands held his, squeezing them gently with a sense of desperation. He eased open his less-swollen eye and could see her fighting back her own fire beneath long eyelashes. She wanted to scream and shout and send every person involved to court for her little boy, but in such a fragile state she could do no such thing. She had to remain soft. She had to be gentle.

“You have to,” she stressed and he ducked his head.

Soft footfalls. Alice closed the door behind her, first aid kit bulging with nursing tools and materials. She pulled it open and began sorting through. “We’ll figure that out later, Ri.”

“Alice, we-“

“ _Later_ , Riley.”

There was a tone of finality in the black woman’s voice and Riley spared a glance to her wife, undecided. They spoke wordlessly, Jon understanding every non-verbal exchange. Find out who did this or be there for their son while he recovers.

Riley gave in with a soft sigh and released the boy after squeezing his hands once more. She stood and let her wife take her place, kneeling in front of Jon and smiling gently with what little positivity she could muster.

Her fingers were soft when they brushed his fresh tears off his bruised skin. He let his eye fall shut once again. Her touch was calming and the weight of everything crashed over him and weighed him down. “I’m going to check if your nose is broken, okay?” He nodded and she hummed softly to him as her fingers brushed over his face. She applied pressure where needed, examining the purple smudges closely. He lifted his chin, directed by her hands, and bit down on his tongue as she very, very carefully examined his neck. “Riley, can you please get me three bags of ice?” A soft murmur that slipped out from beneath her concentration.

Electric blue didn’t say anything, ducking out of the room and reappearing while Alice was feeling for broken ribs. She looked relieved and Jon relaxed.

“Nothing broken,” she told him, squeezing his knee lightly. She took the bags from Riley, each about as big as her hand. “We want to get the bruising to go down as soon as possible so we’ll move you to your room and get you some more water, and you keep this ice on your cheek, stomach and neck, okay?”

He nodded, keeping his movements to a minimum.

“His ankle,” Riley reminded and the woman dropped down to sit on the floor in front of him.

“Sorry, sweetie,” she murmured, holding his leg carefully and undoing his shoe. Shoelaces loose, it fell off his foot and his sock soon followed. The swelling on top of his foot wore heavy, black bruising. He winced at the sight of it and Riley vanished to retrieve an extra bag of ice. Alice checked it, blocking out his hiss of pain as her thumbs pressed down on the swelling around his ankle. “Okay, hop up. We’ll help you upstairs to your room and you can try and get some rest, is that okay?”

He nodded, allowing his parents to pull him up and slip their arms around his waist.

The journey upstairs in itself was enough of an effort, hobbling and stumbling on the agony of his ankle, the agony of his bones. He was convinced he was going to end up with permanent tracks of salt down his cheeks from the relentless waves of pain, sobbing silently as they eased him down onto his bed.

Alice hurried back out, Riley smoothing his hair down and placing a kiss on his pale skin. “I love you,” she whispered, pain in her eyes. “Don’t worry about anything for now, don’t think about school or anyone.” Alice returned and eased him back on his pillows, trying to ignore the way he bit his lip to swallow the pain. When he was settled, she fetched his phone for him and placed the ice bags everywhere they were needed. “Just rest, Jon. We’ll bring you food when you wake up. Text us if you want us to come up.”

She squeezed his thin fingers, Alice placing a kiss above his bruised brow. “I love you, baby.”

He held his blink for half a second longer. “I love you too.” Croaky. Strained. _Broken._

They left with reluctance in the palms of their hands and Jon didn’t even glance at the notifications on his phone screen. He turned it off and put the device aside, closed his eyes and sobbed openly. He wanted to roll over or pull a pillow to his face. He wanted something that could give him comfort in hiding behind, something that would help lull him into slumber.

But he couldn’t even have that.

He couldn’t even cry himself to sleep.

-

**_Tuesday, 15:59._ **

**Slave Driver - > Thirsty Hoes**

**Slave Driver:** hey jon what happened?

 **Slave Driver:** did you go home?

 **Het:** yeah evan waited for you

 **Slut:** did you leave or did you just not cme to lunch

 **Slut:** did u see ur punk bf at class

 **Dat Boi:** are you okay?

 **Mom:** wait what happened?

 **Mom:** was he not at school?

 **Het:** didn’t come to lunch and i dont know if he was in last two periods?

 **Bitch Boi:** wasnt in fourth

 **Bitch Boi:** we had maths n he wasnt there

 **Bitch Boi:** tyler asked where he was but idk what happened

 **Mom:**?

**-**

**_Tuesday, 16:08._ **

**Brocky - > JonJon**

**Brocky:** What happened today?

 **Brocky:** Why’d you go home?

 **Brocky:** Please call me

**_Missed Call from Brocky._ **

**Brocky:** Are you okay?

**_Missed Call from Brocky._ **

**Brocky:** I’m worried, Jon, please call me.

**-**

**_Tuesday, 16:11._ **

**Mom - > Het, Slut, Bitch Boi, Dat Boi, and Slave Driver**

**Mom:** he wont answer my texts or calls

 **Mom:** what happened today?

 **Slut:** idk he was fine at recess

 **Dat Boi:** he was at music too

 **Dat Boi:** what would have made him go home

 **Het:** might have felt sick?

 **Slave Driver:** should be answering his phone still

 **Slave Driver:** its jon. he would have texted us

 **Slave Driver:** im kind of worried

 **Bitch Boi:** he’s probably asleep

 **Bitch Boi:** im sure hes ok

 **Dat Boi:** mmm

 **Mom:** That’s probably it.

 **Mom:** I’ll call him later and if he doesn’t answer, I’ve got Alice’s number so I’ll see what he’s up to.

 **Slave Driver:** please do

 **Het:** ^^

 **Dat Boi:** let us know

 **Het:** does anyone have evan’s number?

 **Slut:** I’ve got marcels and simones

 **Slut:** they’ll have his

 **Slut:** ill msg them about it if brock doenst get to jon tonight

 **Mom:** Yeah that’ll be good.

 **Mom:** Thanks Scotty.

-

Jon didn’t get to sleep at all. His skin crawled as he laid as still as possible. The bruising radiated pain, a constant reminder that never faltered. It didn’t let him rest. Salt caked his cheeks in thick lines.

He’d closed his eyes long ago, thinking that maybe if he pretended to be asleep he’d convince his mind that he was. He didn’t know when his bedroom door opened and closed, but footsteps crept around his room and a glass clinked as it was placed on the table to his right. The footsteps left, assumed he was sleeping peacefully. His door clicked shut again.

He was wide awake.

Whispering. “We have to do something, Alice.” The two women hovered outside his door, convinced he was as asleep as he wished he was.

The ice burnt his skin, burnt his bruising. It felt freezing and boiling simultaneously. Fresh, hot tears slipped from between his closed eyelids. “Just let him rest for now, we’ll talk about it later.”

“Alice.” A frustrated sigh. Jon could see her running her hands through her hair, maybe tying it up in her stressed state. “We have to do something _now_. Some kid did that to him, some school kid who’s probably coming home from school right now, not worried about a thing. We have to do something about it while there’s proof.”

Silence. Jon swallowed the sob in his chest. It hurt to let them out, hurt his throat, hurt his lungs.

“So what—” Alice sounded just as frustrated, “—you want to take him to the police and show off those bruises and cuts like evidence of a crime? Did you see his face? Did you see how fucking _hurt_ he is?” Footsteps leading away with a voice ready to splinter. Jon hated hearing her swear. He hated the pain in her words. “We can’t do that to him. He gets to make that choice. We’ll speak to him about it tomorrow but right now, we’re taking care of our son. We’re letting him rest.”

His brow furrowed, biting down on his bottom lip. The sting of tears wasn’t enough to overpower his aching veins.

-

**_Tuesday, 17:32._ **

**Evan - > Jay**

**Evan:** hey jayjay

 **Evan:** please tell me you’re okay

 **Evan:** i dont know if something happened to you or your phone but

 **Evan:** i want to know if you’re okay

 **Evan:** please call me x

-

**_Tuesday, 18:23._ **

**_Missed Call from Evan._ **

**_Voicemail from Evan._ **

“Hey, please call me when you can. I don’t know if you’re getting my messages? I’m not sure if something happened... or why you went home but I just want to know if you’re okay. I, er, I’m worried about you. Please call me. Or even text me if you prefer. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

**_“Press 1 to play again. Press 2 to-”_ **

**_“Message deleted.”_ **

-

Light tapping of knuckles on wood. He opened his eyes, the icebags mostly water just sitting atop his chest, neck and face. Not a second of sleep. Not a second of relief. Breathing took more than he was capable of.

“Jon, honey?” Alice looked cautious. He saw the pain flash in her eyes when they settled on him again, when they were reminded of the massacre he was. She stepped into the room, phone falling away from her ear and hand covering the speaker and microphone. “It’s Brock, he said he-”

He lifted a hand and flicked it at her. The effort of rolling his head left and right. She got the message and exhaled very softly. The door clicked shut and he felt his heart ache as he heard her speak to his best friend.

“Sorry honey, he’s sleeping.” The quiet murmur outside his door. His fingers curled into fists, clutching the blanket and keeping him in place. “He, er… He didn’t feel so well.” He didn’t have the energy to breathe deeply enough, didn’t have the energy to even try to stop his tears. Everything about him was heavy and useless; he could do nothing but lay there as tears leaked from between his eyelids, no sobbing. “Sweetie, I’ll try get Jon to turn on his phone tomorrow and he’ll tell you guys what he wants you to know.” He was the worst, making his friends fret and worry, leaving them to wonder where he went, what had happened, if he was okay. “I’m sorry, Brock. Yes. Yes, of course I will. Okay. Sure thing Sweetie, I’ll let him know…”

He listened to her walk across the hall to the staircase until her voice could no longer be heard. There was no way he would be getting any sort of sleep.

-

**_Tuesday, 19:51._ **

**Mom - > Slave Driver, Het, Slut, Bitch Boi, and Dat Boi.**

**Mom:** He didn’t answer.

 **Mom:** Alice said he was asleep

 **Het:** :/

 **Mom:** But I don’t think he was, I think he just didn’t want to talk.

 **Slave Driver:** fuck

 **Slut:** mmmmm

 **Mom:** He turned off his phone apparently

 **Dat Boi:** now im worried

 **Bitch Boi:** scott can you msg marcel and simone?

 **Slave Driver:** see if evan managed to get a hold of him or smth

 **Slut:** already on it

**-**

**Tuesday, 19:53.**

**Scotty - > Simone, and Marcel**

**Scotty:** hey dont mean to bother you guys but could you give me evans number?

 **Marcel:** what for?

 **Simone:** **********

 **Scotty:** cant get a hold of jon and we thought maybe evan could

 **Simone:** he can’t

 **Marcel:** hes been trying since school but jon isnt even seeing it

 **Marcel:** phone must be off or broken

 **Scotty:** shit okay

 **Scotty:** thanks either way- means a lot

 **Simone:** no worries, Scott

 **Marcel:** hope you can get through to him <3

 **Scotty:** <3

 **Simone:** <3


	21. drifting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) getting theree.... little jonny boy will be okay soon

**21.**

**_Tuesday, 19:59._ **

**Slut - > Mom, Slave Driver, Het, Dat Boi, Bitch Boi, and Evan. **

**Slut changed Evan’s name to sPunk.**

**Slut:** hi evan

 **sPunk:** rly

 **sPunk:** this is what were goin with

 **sPunk:** you guys jons friends?

 **Mom:** name call

 **Mom:** brock

 **Slut:** scotty

 **Dat Boi:** its ya boi…… lucas

 **Bitch Boi:** brian....

 **Het:** craig…………

 **Slave Driver:** oh boy, im suni

 **sPunk:** i feel like I should be surprised but im not

 **Bitch Boi:** excuse me?

 **sPunk:** uhh :)

 **sPunk:** and no i havent heard from jon

 **sPunk:** ive messaged called and left a voicemail he hasn’t responded to any of it

 **sPunk:** i guess you guys have the same result?

 **Slave Driver:** yep

 **Het:** unfortunately

 **sPunk:** well

 **sPunk:** im supposed to take him to school tmr

 **sPunk:** so ill ask and see if he responds then. if he doesnt ill go see if hes home

 **Slut:** yeah ok

 **Het:** might work

 **Mom:** I hope so

 **Bitch Boi:** i’m sure he’s ok right?

 **Mom:** I don’t think he is. Something happened

 **Mom:** I asked Alice if he was okay

 **Mom:** She didn’t have an answer for me

 **Bitch Boi:** fuck

 **Slave Driver:** oh fuck

 **Dat Boi:** shitt

 **Het:** lets just

 **Het:** see how evan goes in the morning

 **Het:** and we can figure out what to do next tomorrow

 **Slut:** he cant just stay home forever and he will turn his phone on eventually

 **Slut:** he will be okay

 **Slut:** even if something bad happened, he’s got two great moms and all of us. he’ll be ok and we’ll help him with whatever happened.

 **Mom:** Scotty’s right. We’ll just wait and see what happens.

 **sPunk:** … okay

 **sPunk:** thnks for msging me

 **Mom:** Thanks Evan.

 **sPunk:** i’ll let you guys know in the morning

-

He slept. But not well. He picked up his phone for the first time earlier in the afternoon. Though his agony continued to press down on him, he managed to reach for it with a focus of muting the incessant buzzing.

He ignored all the texts, not wanting to read them, not wanting to know if he was hurting his friends with his silence or if they simply just didn’t care.

But with his finger on the off button, he noticed the voicemail notification.

Stinging eyes felt aflame as he listened, the grainy voice of Evan hurting him more than the winded feeling of his lungs and the ache of is ankle. He listened to it through, pulling apart each word. But he didn’t let it play a second time. He deleted it. His phone went black, not another sound from it.

Throughout the following hour, he heard the boy’s words relay over and over again in his head, heard the sound of slight confusion and the touch of concern, heard him wonder where the boundaries of privacy versus worry laid between them? When his phone fell back to his bedside table, his stomach churned.

Worry. Worry. Worry.

A cry for help left his lips as he lurched upward, twisting at the side and feeling his skin burn with bruises. He emptied his stomach over the side of his bed and collapsed.

The door opened and he was out.

Another bed held him when he awoke next, the darker room of his parents’ surrounding him with dusk light eager to push through thin curtains. About ten seconds of relief, ten seconds of relaxation as he came blinked back to reality. Then the pain rearose and his taste buds shrivelled at the stinging taste of stomach acid.

Dropping his hand off the side of the bed, his fingers met wood and he rapped his knuckles on the bed frame as loudly as he could. Sure enough, his door peeked open and Riley leaned in.

Worry. Worry. Worry. Worry.

“Hey Jon.” Soft whisper, gentle against his pain. He watched her move to his side through swollen eyes and whimpered gratefully to feel the glass of water cool on his bottom lip. Water pooled in his mouth and washed down the sickly taste in his throat. “How are you feeling, love?”

He managed to shake his head. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

“Try get as much rest as you can. Do you want food?” Another small shake of the head. There was no way he would be able to keep anything in his stomach. So she smiled a tiny smile, weak with concern, and left him to sleep.

He tried.

Drifting. That’s how he would have best described it. For hours and hours and hours, he drifted. Waking countless times, no light peeking through the curtains. Where his parents slept he didn’t know but guilt laid around him with his every conscious moment.

The guilt of being a burden.

No sense of time, no awareness of anything but his pain. He jolted awake once with an aching headache and lungs that weighed him down. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs were too small. He could only weep until it hurt too much to even stay awake.

Only then did he fall asleep.

-

“Jon?” He peeled his eyes open, feeling heavy and sick, but relieved to finally see dawn rays shining through the curtains. Cautious blue eyes peered into the room and his mother walked in with cereal and water. His stomach churned at the mere idea of eating. She moved in, putting the tray down on the bedside table and sat by his legs. Smile gentle. Eyes calm. “How are you feeling? How did you sleep?”

His blinks were slow and tired, heavy heart full of lethargy more than anything. It took him a couple of tries to have his voice working again. “Not great,” he croaked and nothing showed in her eyes about how she was feeling. Even as a mother she held the qualities of a lawyer. She tried her best to be expressive about her love.

He appreciated that.

“Spend today trying to get some sleep to. Want me to help you get some food down?” she asked, rubbing his arm. He nodded and allowed her tip the glass of water up at his lips. When she put the bowl of cereal aside it had been barely touched after agonisingly long minutes.

Swallowing food was too much, despite his rumbling stomach. Riley took it away with a promise to return with more water and did so.

She helped him drink, and then brought up the questions hovering eagerly in her thoughts. He expected them. “Now I need you to tell me who hurt you, Jon.” He just blinked, savouring the cool water slipping down his sore throat. “I need you to tell me so we can do something about it and get this student expelled. It was a student, yes?”

He ground his teeth together. “I can’t.”

Her face fell, finding his hand and squeezing it. “You _need_ to, honey, we can’t let you go back to school with the same student who did this to you!”

“ _I can’t_.” Shaking his head hurt but he had to ingrain his point into the argument between them. “I don’t want to… t-to make this worse…” Every single word was like swallowing a mouthful of sand, scraping down his throat.

Riley wore a look of helplessness. “Honey-”

“Mom.” He cut her off and closed his eyes, focusing on getting sounds from his throat as smoothly and gently as possible. “I don’t want to make a fuss.” Breathe in. Breathe out. “I just want to heal and go back… Please. Expelling him won’t do anything.”

She still had fight in her, unwilling to leave it be. Riley lived her life controlling the law and manipulating it to her benefit. She had the power to deliver whatever punishment she deemed worthy to the boy she didn’t even know the name of. But her son didn’t want that, her son wanted peace and quiet.

And her love for him and his wants and needs were far more important than her desire to punish the teenage boy who hurt her little boy. She needed to take care of him first and he didn’t want to do anything other than heal. So she would sit quiet and do her best to help him.

-

**_Wednesday, 7:46._ **

**Evan - > Jay.**

**Evan:** am i taking you to school?

-

**_Wednesday, 8:21._ **

**Evan - > Jay.**

**Evan:** i’m assuming something just happened to your phone?

**-**

**_Wednesday, 8:33._ **

**Evan - > Jay.**

**Evan:** im at your house, are you here?

**-**

Jon didn’t have the courage to open his messages, let alone answer them. He read them from his lock screen and didn’t even bother glancing at Thirsty Hoes or texts just from Brock. What would he say?

But with the thin walls of his house he heard the unsure knocking from below him. “Hi Alice, I was wondering if I’m taking Jon to school? Is he home?” A voice that made his heart ache.

“Sorry honey, he’s asleep right now. He’s not feeling well.”

Silence. Jon’s ears strained.

“Is he okay?”

Hesitation. He knew how his mother wore her heart on her sleeve. He knew she couldn’t lie.

“He’ll be okay, he just needs some time at home.”

“Can you… can you ask him to call me please? I would like to talk to him.”

“I will, dear, I will. Thank you for caring about him.” Door shut. Motor bike engine. Gone.

-

**_Wednesday, 8:53._ **

**sPunk - > Where’s Jonny?**

**sPunk:** not coming to school

 **sPunk:** alice said he was sleeping and he was “going to be alright.”

 **sPunk:** she said she’d tell him to turn on his phone so maybe he’ll listen

 **Mom:** Thanks Evan.

 **Mom:** I’ll see if I can get through to him sometime today while I’m home.

 **Dat Boi:** let us know if you do

 **Mom:** of course

 **Bitch Boi:** ^^

 **Mom:** Have a good day at school you guys! ^-^ <3

-

There were two empty seats at the pastel kids’ table on Wednesday. The break periods left the table relatively glum, conversation unsurprisingly drawing back to their missing friend.

“We really should just wait until we hear from him.” Craig’s statement was obvious. It made sense. It was logical. There was no reason for them to continuously worry and wonder where he was and what his absence meant. They’d find out eventually.

But it was frustrating. “I just want to know that he’s okay.” Lucas’ hands were pale in his hair and he huffed.

Brian felt sour. “Ye know he’s not.” Negative and unwanted words spilt on the white table and Suni gave him a look. He raised his hands. “We all know he’s not! ‘He’ll be okay’ means ‘e isn’t right now. I’m fockin’ worried about ‘im and it’s frustratin’ that I can’t- that we can’t do anything.”

They stared at their uneaten food, no one at the table having any sort of appetite. They’d messaged Brock earlier during the recess period but he told them he’d had no luck. Everything felt grim.

Thankfully though, the day sped through. Each class seemed more insignificant than the last. Sooner than they’d expected, the bell was going and they were heading for buses or pick-up areas.

-

**_Wednesday, 9:32._ **

**Evan – > Jay**

**Evan:** please text me today

 **Evan:** ill be checking

 **Evan:** im worried about you and i know something happened but i just want to hear from you

 **Evan:** your friends are just as worried

**-**

**_Wednesday, 11:02._ **

**Evan - > Jay**

**Evan:** if youre sick I hope youre feeling better

 **Evan:** i can see that youve read my msgs too

 **Evan:** i hope you can text me soon

**-**

**_Wednesday, 13:39._ **

**Evan - > Jay**

**Evan:** make sure youre drinking water and eating right

 **Evan:** and getting enouhg sleep

 **Evan:** i have sport next so i cant text u but take care of yourself

 **Evan:** miss you xo

 **Evan:** <3

**-**

**_Wednesday, 14:27._ **

**Jay - > Evan**

**Jay:** <3

**-**

Jon remained in bed the whole day. The most he did was hobble into the bathroom connected to the bedroom and pee. The pain of his bruising continued to eat away at his energy and sitting up was the limit of his ability.

It was good enough.

“Please.” Alice had spoken softly when she’d come up to see him in the morning. “Think about talking to them. Evan’s worried, and so is Brocky. You’ll be going back next week and it’s better to talk to them now rather than have them hound you for explanations next Monday at school.”

Fortunately, he had the entire day to think about it; to think about everything.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t rid his thoughts of the sickening voice that accompanied the violence he endured the previous day.

“You’re a burden. A waste of space.”

“They can’t wait to get rid of you.”

“He hates you.”

“Who would bother with someone like you; with a _faggot_ like you?”

He bit his lip until it bled,

But a message from Evan every hour or two kept him grounded, kept him breathing and alive and reminding himself that he wasn’t a burden, his friends didn’t hate him, Evan liked having him around. He wasn’t just a nasty slur.

Brock also messaged him rather frequently, Jon receiving and ignoring five total phone calls from him throughout the day. He didn’t respond to his best friend. He ignored the guilt that settled in his gut, refusing to see it as anything more than sickness that boiled beneath his bruising.

There was no way he could face Brock.

Yet he found himself replying to Evan. Waking up from a pain-riddled nap with a throbbing headache and no sense of logical thinking, he sent through a heart with a fond smile on his lips. The punk was a pretty distraction from the pain in his throat and he only realised he’d done what he told himself not to do when the school day came to an end and his phone was vibrating against his arm.

His heart jumped in alarm, seeing Evan’s name with a green and a red button. A sound of panic left his swollen throat when his thumb flew to touch the green and he froze dead still, hearing a voice that soothed his pain but inflamed his fear.

“Jay? Jay, are you alright?” Surprise at the fact that the brunette had picked up, surprise that he’d messaged the punk at all. Jon did not say a word. His voice was croaky and strained and thick with pain. His problem would be evident in seconds. “Jon?” Worried, uncertain. “Are you there?”

His fingers shook as he opened his messenger app over the phone call.

-

**_Wednesday, 15:19._ **

**Jay - > Evan**

**Jay:** i cant speak

-

A small murmur of surprise and the sound of a text-tone from Evan’s phone. “Oh. Why not? Are you alright?”

_Lie. Lie. Lie._

**Jay:** yes im ok

 **Jay:** just sick

“Why did you go home? What happened?”

_Liar. Liar. Liar._

_Guilt. Guilt. Guilt._

**Jay:** threw up at lunch

 **Jay:** mom picked me up

 **Jay:** sorry

He believed that maybe if he gave short, simple responses, it’d be easier for him to hide behind his lies and ignore his guilt. Technically, he did throw up, though it wasn’t at school and that wasn’t the reason he went home. Maybe it could only be counted as a half-lie?

“Why didn’t you call?” He could tell Evan was cautious, toeing lines he wasn’t sure of. He didn’t know where boundaries lay, he didn’t know what he was allowed to ask.

Jon hesitated.

 **Jay:** phone dead + acting weird

 **Jay:** been sleeping a lot

There was no way Evan would believe such a thin lie, no way he was that oblivious.

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t pretend either.

“I know you’re lying.” The mention was blunt and Jon closed his eyes. _Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt._ “You would tell me if you wanted to so I’m not gonna push it. I just want to know if you’ll be okay.”

His response was immediate. Thankful for the respect, and eager to reassure.

 **Jay:** i will

The smile in Evan’s words could be heard.

“Thank God. When will you be back at school do you think?”

 **Jay:** probably next week

There was a moment of silence where Jon’s eyes fell shut and he tried to breathe as evenly as possible.

“Will you text me later? Please? I-” Evan caught himself. Jon was curious to the words he bit back but more caught up in wondering if he was going to agree or not. “If I’m not gonna get to see you for the rest of the week, I’d like to still talk to you. Even just texting.”

His busted lips stung as they pulled up into a weak  smile.

 **Jay:** yes okay

 **Jay:** I can try

A soft sigh, a breath of relief. “Good. I’ll leave you be now.” He heard the rev of an engine in the background and Jon nodded slightly to himself. “Take care of yourself, Flower Boy.”

 **Jay:** be safe

 **Jay:** <3

The call ended and a sadness spread through his chest at the knowledge that the cute nickname no longer applied.

-

Weathered hands pulled at black plastic bags. Wednesday was rubbish day for the high-school and the cleaner wanted nothing more than to finish his job and get home to his wife. He emptied each small bin into the bags. The English classes, History classes, the three Music bins… A small frown pulled at his lips when he watched an amount of pink and yellow shapes flutter out of one bin. He caught one, rubbing it between his fingers curiously.

Some kid’s art project? It seemed so. Though it was odd to see in a music class bin. He didn’t care much though, too tired to be curious, and finished up his job, emptying the rest of the bins; sheets of music, a thin plastic chord and a few random tissues that looked to be used to aid a blood-nose.


	22. inked skin, a hoarse voice and a bubble bath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl im kinda dissatisfied with this one so i'm sorry for the lack of quality.
> 
> im also /incredibly/ sorry for the wait. im gonna push through and try get back to once per week/fortnight now that the terms cooling off. ive had a lot on my plate lately. 
> 
> hopefully quality and excitement will pick up soon! i'm so sorry, once again. i hope you still enjoy.

**22.**

Despite the concerning absence of the brunette, the rest of Jon’s friends didn’t have the worst week. Suni teased and joked about how often Brian was on his phone, texting his ill boyfriend and smiling to himself. Lucas found himself bumping into John far too many times to be just coincidence. Scotty loved to spend lunches dreamily looking over to his lovers at their table. And Craig just settled knowing all of his friends were dumb as fuck.

Though it was hard to forget about the disappearance of Jon, the worried friends continued speaking to Evan here and there, messaging often for reassurance that he was all okay and safe. There wasn’t heaps of information the punk could give them but he told them what he could. To him, the simple reassurance that he could spend time on the phone with the silent boy and provide him with that small bit of company he shied away from was enough.

It wasn’t like he complained either: Jon was more than happy to listen to that gentle voice in the evenings, curled up in bed to protect bruises no one knew about.

It was a miracle on Thursday when Evan convinced Jon to speak to Brock. There was a timidness about it at first, apologising for his disappearance, apologising for not texting him but Brock, the supportive friend he always was, brushed every word off and just reminded the boy that he loved him and he wanted to know that he was okay.

The rest of them found it easier to relax by then, knowing he wasn’t totally cut off from them. They focused on each other during school, teasing and poking fun to make it seem like nothing was different. With reassurance that he would be back the following week, they didn’t need to worry.

“Did he send you another dick-pic?” The girl grinned with her chin on her hands, watching Brian smile at his phone.

“Fuck off, Suni.”

“Have you even kissed him yet?” she continued, ignorant to his irritation.

His middle finger faced her and she giggled. “None o’ yer business.”

“He hasn’t.” Craig blew a kiss to his glaring friend.

“Get lost, you pricks!”

He threw his plastic fork at Suni who laughed and threw it back. Lucas just rolled his eyes, noticing the hearts in Scotty’s baby-blues as he gazed across the room to the table with his girlfriend and boyfriend. The trio had already planned to hang out, Scotty having panicked after getting asked to go to Marcel’s house on the weekend.

He had vented to his friends, wondering what it meant, wondering what they were thinking of doing. When Suni jokingly guessed they were going to rock his night, he almost started hyperventilating until she assured him that that wouldn’t be the case. Craig said they were likely wanting to just play games and eat food and Lucas said he should bring lube just in case.

Brian spent the time in Brock’s absence asking regularly what he should do. Of course, the advice he thought he’d receive was the opposite of what they gave him; his friends varying in their ideas on different ways to ruin the two’s pure relationship. Craig was the only one who gave something genuine, being: “Just take him out on a date, sweep him off his feet and make him smile.”

It was enough to silence him, filling his head with thoughts and ideas and they all listened and laughed at his ridiculously over the top date plans. Though they teased him relentlessly, they couldn’t not be proud of their two friends. It was good to know they were so happy.

On the last day of the week, Lucas found himself sitting on the bleachers again, fingers curled around the metal bench as nerves chewed through his heart. He stared at the sky until he heard clicking and the soft sound of boots on metal until he felt someone else sit beside him. He kept his eyes closed. If he opened them, he’d lose courage.

John knew he had something to say and stayed silent, ever observant and patient.

“What are your weekend plans?” he bit out, the sun holding a gentle warmth.

A soft hum. Fingers running through long hair. “Nothin’ yet. Might go out with Marcel; dunno.”

“Would you wanna… wanna go do something on Sunday with me?” He blurted his words out in a rush, feeling them run onto one another. The moment they left his tongue, his lips pursed, too afraid to release the air in his lungs.

“As in a date?” Lucas nodded, eyes still scrunched shut. “What d’you wanna do?”

Not a yes. Not a no.

He clenched the metal tighter, not wanting to show the shaking of his hands. “It’s, er… I want it to be a surprise.”

John hummed softly in thought. Lucas let himself exhale, dropping his head and turning to the punk. Pale, curious eyes met his, unafraid of being caught. The smirk that played at his lips didn’t show any hint of disgust or discomfort. “As long as you aren’t going to cut off my fingers or feed me to any bears, I’d like to let you surprise me.”

A grin broke out across Lucas’ face and his heart slammed against his ribs. He dropped his head, laughing in relief, and let go of the metal. His fingers jittered as he lifted them up to his face and he shook his head. “Thank God,” he murmured and John watched his nervous actions with surprise and a twinge of worry.

He reached up, taking one shaking hand in his slowly enough for the shorter boy to pull away if he wanted to. He didn’t. But he did blush when warm ring-laden fingers intertwined with his. “You don’t gotta be so nervous,” he said, voice soft and accompanied with a smile that made Lucas’ heart leap.

“I know.” Practically a whisper. The serenity settled around them and he was too scared to break it. They stayed like that for a long few minutes, holding hands loosely. Neither needed to speak, neither needed anything else to fill the air they shared. The silence was gentle and they basked in the day’s warmth.

John didn’t break the peace as he pulled a pen from the front pocket of his bag, pulling Lucas’ hand to his lap and turning it to face upwards. Humming softly, Lucas relaxed to the feeling of the pen tip running along his skin, drawing little shapes and lines gently over the veins. He spent a few long minutes drawing over the expanse of the thin, pale wrist, and Lucas didn’t let himself look to it until John was capping the pen and loosely slipping his fingers away.

When he did, he couldn’t look away. Blue ink drew an intricate pattern over his milky white skin, much like a flower; growing outwards with every layer. He loved it, skin tingling still as he traced it with his eyes.

Along the crease of his wrist was a line of numbers followed by a small heart.

He sheltered his arm throughout the rest of the day, having walked to class with John’s arm around his waist and a smile on his lips. He refused to let a single spot of the art smudge and saved John’s number into his phone as soon as he got the chance in class. The moment he was home, he saved several photos of the pretty art onto his phone and got to texting the punk about Sunday.

-

**_Friday, 14:23._ **

**Lucas - > John**

**Lucas:** hey its me

 **Lucas:** lucas

 **Lucas:** so i live at ** ******** come to mine on sunday @ 10am if thats not too early

 **Lucas:** and we can go then

 **John:** still not convinced you arent going to chop up my fingers to sell on the black market or smth

 **John:** idk man its pretty suss

 **Lucas:** :3c guess youll have to take the risk then huh

 **John:** :]]]]]]]]]] guess so

 **Lucas:** //0-0\\\

 **John:** ¯\\_(⊙︿⊙)_/¯

 **Lucas:** ٩๏̯͡๏)۶

 **John:** ٩(｡͡•‿•｡)۶

 **Lucas:** โ๏௰๏ใ ื

 **John:** ლ(ಠ益ಠლ)

 **Lucas:** ﴾͡๏̯͡๏﴿ O'RLY?

 **John:** ¯\\(ºдಠ)/¯

 **Lucas:** ok we need help

 **John:** (´◉◞౪◟◉) what do you mean

 **John:** (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ theres no problem here

 **Lucas:** o m g

 **John:** ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)

 **Lucas:** blocked

 **Lucas:** u dont get my surprise anymore

 **John:** ((((゜д゜;))))

 **John:** (ღˇ◡ˇ)~♥ take my love

 **Lucas:** /╲/\╭ºoꍘoº╮/\╱\

 **John:** i take my love back

 **John:** fuck that

 **Lucas:** (•⊙ω⊙•)

-

Jon continued to text Evan over the final days of the week. Despite the guilt that sat heavy beneath his bruises, he allowed the other to keep him company. It was impossible not to enjoy listening to the punk talk in the evenings, texting him questions here and there while pretending he wasn’t hurting with each and every breath.

But the two days had a dramatic improvement as his bruising began to fade and his throat hurt less and less. All throughout Friday he was trying his best to get his voice to return to him and restrengthen. It wasn’t enough to speak aloud during his call with Evan that night. But with the weekend upon him he relaxed, having two more days to get better and hopefully no one to bother him.

Until Lucas texted.

**-**

**_Saturday, 8:19._ **

**Lucas - > Jon**

**Lucas:** hey jon i know you arent well and you’re not texting anyone

 **Lucas:** i miss you a lot and hope you feel better soon btw

 **Lucas:** but could i like,, come over and get your pink hoodie?

 **Lucas:** bc i dont have anything cute to wear as well as good for ice-skating and john and i are going ice skating so i need something

 **Lucas:** but I get it if you want to stay by yourself, id love to see u and catch up

 **Jon:** hi lucas

 **Jon:** youre going on a date?

 **Jon:** u might be able to come over on sunday to get the hoodie

 **Jon:** if u want

 **Lucas:** jon!! yes i really wanna see u

 **Jon:** you just

 **Jon:** cant make a big deal

 **Lucas:** huh?

 **Jon:** promise me you wont ask heaps of questions

 **Jon:** please

 **Lucas:** jon of course

 **Lucas:** if you dont wanna talk about something we dont have to

 **Lucas:** i just wanna see u

 **Jon:** ok

 **Jon:** i miss you too

 **Lucas:** thanks jon

 **Lucas:** love you

 **Jon:** <3

-

Jon thought about it as he spent the day back in his bedroom, Alice having cleaned up and bleached his carpet. He didn’t complain about the faint smell of chemicals and his mothers left him home alone for the day, going out to a friend’s wedding.

He forced himself to get up several times, walking around his room and to the bathroom and back. His legs shook after days of having not left his bed but he needed to be able to walk when he returned to school. He couldn’t afford to stay home for any longer.

And seeing Lucas… He had to. It was smarter to be talking to his friends before Monday or it would all be far more of a big deal. Plus… he missed his friend. He missed all of them.

The day was a painful one for the weakness in his legs, and it was the same for his throat. Reading aloud, speaking to himself, singing along to music he played in his room. Knowing Evan would be wanting to call him that evening, he wanted to speak to the boy. So when his voice was hoarse from stress in the afternoon, the healing cuts on his lips split when he smiled.

He could speak. With difficulty, he could manage a hoarse voice and that was good enough for him. The swelling had gone down a bit, though still tender to touch and painful to use. The blackening had faded to blues and greens, patches of yellow growing over it with time. And although it was healing, it wasn’t healing fast enough to go unnoticed.

He just hoped it would be gone by the Monday.

-

**_Saturday, 12:23._ **

**Marcel - > Simone, and Scotty**

**Marcel:** u all good to come to mine tnight?

 **Simone:** ya

 **Simone:** @ 4?

 **Marcel:** yup. home alone so u can stay the night if u want

 **Simone:** yess

 **Scott:** yeah okay

 **Simone:** you okay w that scooter?

 **Scott:** um yes

 **Scott:** what are we gonna be doing?

 **Marcel:** depends. u any good at mario kart?

 **Scott:** ohhh

 **Scott:** fuck yeah i am

 **Marcel:** ha

 **Marcel:** we’ll see abt that tnight then

 **Simone:** you fuckboys have no idea what you’re up against

 **Simone:** I’m gonna sweep the floor with you losers.

 **Marcel:** all bark and no bite

 **Marcel:** im the real competition

 **Scotty:** pfft

 **Scotty:** we’ll see

 **Simone:** all u’ll be seeing is my ass in first place

 **Marcel:** bulllshit

 **Scotty:** yeah yeah

 **Scotty:** all bark and no bite?

 **Simone:** NO

 **Marcel:** definitely ;)

 **Simone:** >:( you guys are gonna eat your fkn words

-

Hearing Evan’s voice soothed Jon’s rampant thoughts in seconds. “Hi Jay.” Soft. Tired. Jon stretched out, phone beside his head as he laid on his back and stared up at his ceiling. A smile lifted at his lips at the greeting, picking up the soft sigh from the Canadian and closing his eyes. He cleared his throat.

“Hey Ev.” It was impossible not to flinch as the sharp edges of his words when they scraped through his swollen throat. He sounded in pain and he was, but there was no denying the small swell of pride that came with getting the words out in the first place.

It was a small achievement, but an achievement still.

The punk’s surprise was immediate but silent. He hadn’t been expecting to hear the boy’s voice in place of the little _ping_ he received from a test message. A surprise; but pleasant, no doubt. Being the guy he was, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he let out a soft hum. “How are you feeling?” The words carried a special dose of gentleness and Jon’s heart was warm beneath his hand. There was no big deal, no fuss. There never was with Evan.

The nonchalance hovered alongside both of them. All they wanted was to spend the night listening to one another speak and breathe softly. “Better than I sound, trust­­­­­­­ me,” he got out and closed his eyes to Evan’s soft laugh.

“Good to hear. What have you been up to?”

The unattractive sounding of his voice remained unmentioned for the rest of their conversation, Jon texting for some of it just to savour what little he held in his voice-box. Evan didn’t ever complain or ask a thing about it. His patient smile could be heard around his vague questions and funny stories about the ridiculousness of his friends, never complaining about Jon’s laugh that came out as more of a wheeze than anything, never asking about what exactly caused him to flinch with every word.  

When lethargy was pulling at Jon’s eyelids and he was already cuddled up beneath his sheets, hugging a pillow to his chest, Evan spoke softer and breathed out his laughter when he got no other response from the boy he adored than soft, steady breathing.

A small whisper of, “Goodnight, Jay-Jay,” that remained unheard, before the soft click of the phone and he left the sleeping boy to his gentle dreams.

-

“Hey Brocky, how’re ye feelin’?” The phone was warm to Brian’s shoulder as he flicked on the lights and turned on the two taps at the tub. He dropped a dollop of soap beneath the pouring water and watched white bubbles form and rise with excitement.

A sleepy yawn reached through the speaker. “Tired,” he murmured, lifting a smile on Brian’s lips. The word ‘cute’ drifted through the Irish boy’s mind and he put his boyfriend on speaker, pulling off his shirt. He heard him sniffle as he shed his clothing, testing the water and hearing the soft tune he hummed echo around the tiled room. “Jon’s been feeling better with each day which is great. He hasn’t let me call him yet but…” he trailed off slightly in thought, his concern heavy though he tried to hide it. “But Evan’s been speaking to him a lot and he says he’s been doing better! He messaged not long ago to say Jon was talking when they called tonight so that’s really good too, I guess. I’m just… just glad he’s not hiding from all of us, at least.”

A soft hum of agreement as the taps silenced and Brian sunk into the hot bubbly water. He settled his arms on the sides of the bathtub and sighed. “Try not t’ overt’ink it, love,” he said. The smell of vanilla filled his nose and he closed his eyes. “I know ye’re worried; we all are. But just keep talkin’ to him, yeah? He’ll be back at school on Monday and he’ll still be Jon, he’ll be okay. A’right?”

Silence trickled into the room and he knew the other boy was thinking hard. “Yeah, you’re right.” A heavy sigh. “Thank you. I get caught up thinking too much sometimes.”

Brian huffed, fond feeling tickling at his skin as the heat of the water seeped into his insides too. “I know, love. That’s why ’m here.” His accent dropped each word lazily, fingers dancing in the water as he shifted down further, propping his feet up on the other end of the tub. He had too long of a body to lay completely submerged but adored the simple feeling of the heat crawling up his neck and cool air tickling his feet. “Now tell me ‘bout you. Ye feelin’ okay?”

“I already said how I was feeling.” Slight confusion lifted with the steam.

“‘Tired’ isn’t a proper answer, Silly. What about yer spots? They goin’ down yet?” he sunk his arms below the water level, raising water to his face. The silence shied away from his humming on both his and his boyfriend’s end as he reached for soap and rubbed facewash into his skin.

The soft scribble of a pencil on paper could be heard, Brock finishing up some work or doodling or just filling a page with grey for no other reason than fiddling. “You’re the silly one,” was his quiet comment, but didn’t let the other have time to ask what he meant. “Yeah, they’re going down now. I didn’t think they would so quick but I got lucky, I think.”

“An’ yer fever?”

A very gentle scoff reached the bathing boy as he shifted forward and tipped his head back to soak his auburn hair. “Irritating but better than yesterday,” he answered, sounding amused. The sound of a page turning.

“Why do ye sound like tha’?” he asked, voice still cheerful and curious. His love didn’t seem sad, as much as he seemed a little bit vague but he knew there was something a little bit off about him. Something was bothering him.

“Sound like what?” Innocent and vague, as always. But there was a hint of teasing mixed in.

Brian smiled. “You know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout, Brocky. What’s up?”

Silence. He let his face fall to the water, ears above still to listen as he washed off the soap and cleaned off his face. When he sat back upright he reached for the shampoo and conditioner. Paper tore loudly and a dismissive hum.

“Nothing.” Short and simple, but easily a lie. Even Brock knew, sighing again and not even bothering to wait for Brian to prompt him. “I just don’t understand why you asked.” Simple again, but open ended.

Brian was patient, though his friends might agree such a feat was impossible. He gave a few seconds of calm silence. “Asked what?”

His admission struggled to emerge and his voice closed off, something Brian wasn’t entirely used to. “How I’m feeling.” His fingers paused in their circles as he rubbed shampoo into his scalp, a frown twisting at his lips. He waited, hoping Brock to elaborate and washed the white soap out as the boy did. “I don’t know why it’s important.”

The Irish boy couldn’t stop the laugh that dropped from his tongue, running his hand through his wet hair as he sunk below the surface of the water once again. He towelled his face dry and shook his head, although the boy didn’t see him. “Brock, baby, did ye forget that ye’re my boyfrien’?” he asked, teasing tone keeping the conversation light and cheerful, although genuine.

The boy let out an almost silent, “Mhm,” sounding timider than anything. Brian assumed it was because of the small pet-name but his concern was on Brock’s worries. It was clear that he didn’t understand why Brian cared, he didn’t understand why he was important to the boy that many found so attractive.

“It may come as a surprise, yeah?” A smile played on his words as the sound of water tinkling and splashing filled the bathroom, “but as yer boyfrien’, I do actually care about you.” He listened, a silence of distrust and uncertainty following the crumple of paper and a page turn. “I like knowing how yer day has been, and how you’re feeling. An’ when ye’re sick, I especially like t’know if ye are feelin’ better. I didn’ think that was too odd, do you?” The distrust seemed to fade with the following pause, no more scratching of pencils or flipping pages. “You still here, Brock?”

“Yeah. I am.” Page flip. Another one. Another. Then more scribbling. “I am feeling better, thank you. I’ll be able to be back on Monday.”

A grin on his lips. “Good. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” His shy smile could be heard. “I’ve gotta go now though. Sorry, Bri. Talk to you tomorrow night?”

“Of course, dear.” He reached forward and pulled the plug by his feet. “Goodnight, Brocky.”

“Night, Brian.”

 _Beep_.


	23. 'kiss the cook'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >.< trying to get back onto schedule!! sorry for the waits guys

**23.**

“Shit, no! Simone, get back here!”

“Yes! Who sucks at Mario Kart, now, bitch!?”

“Marcel, you _dick_!”

All three varied in their responses as the race ended. Their cries mixed: Marcel of anguish, Scott of betrayal and Simone of smug glee. Names flashed up on the scoreboard. Happy and proud sat Simone, legs crossed and lips grinning with her name in the first slot. Marcel’s sat in second but his hands held his head in shame. Scott held the posture and gaze of complete and utter betrayal, character beside a sad number seven.

Marcel’s weary groan drifted from his hands, lingering beneath Simone’s cheerful laughter. He didn’t look up at Scott; refused to in his guilt. “We were supposed to work together and destroy her!” Scotty smacked his controller down on the cotton of the couch pillow, falling back and ignoring Simone’s quiet amusement. “That means _not_ throwing green-shells back on the finish-line _after_ she’s already won!” His distress wasn’t discreet and a pillow rose to hide his face and swallow his overdramatic sobbing. It only seemed to fuel the quiet giggling and mumbled words didn’t even make it past the palms of Marcel’s hands. “We were supposed to be a _team_ , Marcel!”

“I panicked!” The punk hid his face still, only shifting his hands to let his defence be heard. He shook his head in his own disgrace before looking up to show grief in his dark eyes, aimed at the boy he’d pushed back four places. “I just had the green and, y’know; I didn’t think you were _right on my ass,_ Scott. I’m sorry you didn’t dodge!”

“I didn’t dodge!? You didn’t need to throw it!”

Scott’s words were mostly swallowed up by his pillow but neither cared as they released miserable whines in unison. Simone’s pleased grin didn’t falter, hand rubbing comforting circles on her older boyfriend’s back. Scott fell on his side and buried his face in the pillow where it couldn’t be seen. The material swallowed his wail.

Pretty giggling never stopped. “I told you guys!” Her voice floated above them as she sung her words, eyes bright and smile wide. Her hands lifted in remorseless innocence. “Not my fault you two aren’t as good as me.”

A sarcastic scoff and Scotty peaked over the top of his pillow to see Marcel with his back to Simone. His lips pulled up in a cocky smirk, trying his best to play it cool as he folded his arms and sat tall. “We all get lucky,” was all he said and her giggles evolved to laughter, smacking him on the back with her hand.

“You’re so full of shit!” she accused, laughing too much to be upset.

“Pfft.”

“That’s not a response, Marcel!”

He looked over his other shoulder, brows raised in a feigned lack of care. Simone’s eyes crinkled in her giggling and Scott could see how she wore her fondness for him in the little dimple in her cheek. The look of adoration she wore beneath her mock-offence mirrored the same look Marcel wore beneath his teasing smirk and ignorant act.

The two were in love. That’s how it was.

Scott felt warmth flush his skin at the fact that they even considered inviting him to be a part of their relationship. Anyone who looked at them could see they had everything they wanted, didn’t they? It didn’t make sense to Scott why they even thought of him. Was life just taking pity on him and his lonely bi heart? Very likely.

Simone’s humoured giggles brought him back, blinking at the two pairs of eyes that were set on him. They were accompanied by fond little smiles as Simone waved at him teasingly.

“You fallin’ asleep over there?” Marcel scoffed when pale eyes narrowed, the look of blame not yet gone from them as Scott pointedly shifted his gaze to Simone. With no response other than the dirty look, Marcel’s smirk formed a grin and his laugh rose in pitch with his amusement.

Simone just giggled, not looking away from his stare. “You’ll have better luck next time, Scooter,” she cooed, swatting Marcel away when he shuffled closer to her on the couch cushion. His grin was dazzling, although saturated with mischief. A squeal left Simone’s lips as his hands evaded hers and latched onto her hips. It didn’t take him much effort at all to drag her back onto his lap, sitting her between his open legs and snapping his arms around her waist before she could duck away. Trapped. “Get off!” she exclaimed. “I beat your ass, ‘nd now you wanna suck up to me? Fuck off!” Her harsh words lost all edge as she laughed right through them.

He couldn’t help but smile at their teasing, Simone twisting back and forth, trying not to laugh as she scolded the other. With her lack of strength though, she was totally trapped and turned to her other boyfriend in hopes of rescue.

“Scotty, come help me!” she exclaimed, reaching one hand out towards him before returning it to Marcel’s arms where she tried to push them down. With no response other than the smaller boy sitting up, she scowled. “Scott!”

Taking one step towards her, he smiled lightly and her eyes lit up with hope. It was satisfying to watch it vanish just as fast as he stepped past the two, Marcel in hysterics as he watched the boy walk from the living room without a second thought.

“Scotty!?” Simone cried and the boy stopped at the doorway, turning back with wide innocent eyes.

A sly grin and a casual shrug. “You’ll have better luck next time!” Her brows furrowed, mouth open in insult at the use of her own words against her.

“Scott, you ass!” She only heard his laughter as he walked from the room.

He found the bathroom with little difficulty, the one storey house making it easy. When he finished up, he moved towards the sound of music and soft singing, finding the kitchen and the gentle smell of spaghetti greeting his nose.

Marcel stood at the stove, pink frilly apron on his front as he stirred a pot of bubbling spaghetti sauce. Simone sat on the counter, singing softly to the music she played through the speaker and kicking her feet back and forth. The two looked peaceful; at home with one another and merely enjoying the gentle evening and smell of dinner.

Simone looked up at Scott’s entrance, initial reaction of a smile being shoved away in replace of a pout as she remembered she was supposed to be mad at him. He blew a kiss, loving the reflection of the dimmed kitchen lights in her dark eyes as she rolled them and pretended to ignore the boy.

“Scott, c’mere.” Marcel waved him forward, tapping a small bit of something into the pot before stirring more. It was a surprise to have a spoon shoved in his face, a hand hovering beneath it to catch any drips from where it held a small amount of the sauce. “Open.” Another order and Scott did so without thinking otherwise, closing his lips around the spoon and welcoming the hot sample onto his tongue as the utensil was pulled back out.

The rich taste of it dripped over his tongue for only a second inside his mouth before soft hands settled on his cheeks, nudging Marcel aside. He didn’t notice when Simone had hopped down from the counter. He didn’t even notice when she’d appeared beside him but she was quick on her feet in invading his space.

A cheeky grin. Flash of dark brown eyes. Then her lips were on his and the taste of spaghetti sauce was the last thing on his mind.

He was thankful that he had nothing in his hands; that was his first thought. Had he been holding his phone, or a cup, or anything at all, there was for-sure no way he wouldn’t have dropped it when she touched her mouth to his. Her lips were cold against the heat of the spaghetti on his tongue and there was an embarrassing few seconds where he stayed frozen still, hands hovering either side of her with no idea what to do.

It didn’t seem to discourage her though, touch gentle when she pulled back a breath before tilting her head, angling his with her hands, and sealing their lips together again. It was then that he regained control over himself. His hands settled on her hips and he fitted his lips against hers in a more comfortable, inviting way.

He could feel her smile through the kiss and didn’t deny the mad fluttering in his heart. Especially when her breath fanned over his top lip and he felt her mouth soften and lips part. The little silver piercing in the centre of her bottom lip felt odd against his lips; unexpected but not unwanted. It was cold too and he found a sense of satisfaction when his bottom lip dragged against it, accompanied by a shiver up his spine and tingling in his fingertips.

Hands fell away from his face, one slipping to the back of his head and the other falling to cup his neck. The touch was warm, the rest of her body too, pressed against him. He noticed none of that though when the tip of her tongue found an opening, pressing gently against his bottom lip in a moment of hesitance, before chasing what she sought and slipped her tongue in to dance alongside his.

Fire burned in his fingertips as he slid his hands around to sit at her lower back. She sighed into his mouth (probably the hottest thing he’d ever experienced) and he chased its source, following her tongue back into her own mouth with his

A tug on his hair, little quirk of her lips showing her amusement as she sucked on his tongue for an extra second (he was wrong about the hottest experience), before drawing back. Her hands lingered, her closeness too, and he was reluctant to let her move away, hands falling and face pink. Simone’s smile was satisfied and Scott almost passed out when she flicked her tongue out to glide over the silver ball on her bottom lip.

She looked to Marcel who watched with offended eyes. “Yeah”—she nodded at the spoon still held in his hands with a grin—“tastes good.” There was no difference in her expression between that moment and the one following when she won the round of Mario Kart earlier and Scott was too busy trying to blink himself awake to acknowledge the distrustful glare Marcel focused on his girlfriend.

She backed up to the counter, hopping up onto it again with a shameless smile on her face as Marcel rose his hands to his hips and frowned. “Simone, you fuckin’ would.” His comment was a mixture of insult and disappointment and the two only stared at one another, Marcel squinting and Simone grinning.

“Should’ve been quicker,” was all she gave him and he scowled, waving his hands at his apron as if she was missing the point.

“I wore the ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron and _everything_!” he exclaimed and Scott’s already flushed cheeks darkened as he realised they were quarrelling about kissing him. His lips still tingled from Simone and it was almost protectively that he raised his hand to cover them, transferring the tingling to his fingertips instead.

Simone’s grin was the definition of ‘smug’. “Guess I just got lucky then, huh?”

A short inhale, lips pinched in a childish frown. He raised a finger to point aggressively at the girl. “You-!” He cut himself off, ignoring her laugh as he breathed in deep and exhaled, dropping his finger. “Go sit down while I serve up,” he snapped, not having the bite to insult his girlfriend as he turned back to Scott and his meal. A short moment of watching the still-stunned boy. “You okay, baby?” he asked, smirk dancing on his lips as pretty eyes settled on him, unbelieving.

It seemed that both he and Simone couldn’t get enough of the constant fluster Scotty wore in blushing cheeks.

That fact was further proven when said boy’s breathing stuttered at the pet name, hand raising to cover his eyes in his embarrassment at Marcel’s chuckle. It was odd how two syllables could flip his stomach and squeeze his heart.

“Shut up,” he murmured, no snap to the words as he leant back against the counter, other hand rising and settling to cover his face completely. The two giggled, as expected, but let him be as Simone gathered utensils and Marcel served three bowls of spaghetti.

By the time they were done, Scott was still blushing and hiding himself. He felt someone move in close to him, hands settling on the bench either side of his hips, and shrunk in on himself. Determinedly, he kept his eyes closed and hands on his face.

“Scott,” Marcel cooed, giggle hinting at his soft words. His boyfriend let out a small sound, shaking his head and tucking it further down to try and hide. He could guess what was going to happen; he wasn’t that silly. But he could tell his face was still red and he was too embarrassed to deal with either his boyfriend or his girlfriend. “Scottyyy.” A hand lifted to his wrist, very gently tugging one hand away from pursed lips. Marcel giggled very lightly.

“Nooo.” The smaller boy shook his head still, other hand pulled away and face exposed. He didn’t even try to stop the punk, eyes shyly blinking open to Marcel’s face, close but smiling gently. Eyes crinkled with amusement but smile one of fond endearment.

Scott stayed shrunk back, Marcel’s gaze wondering his face and taking in his pink cheeks and frantic eyes. He didn’t notice one hand releasing his wrist. Fingers settled just beneath his jaw, tilting his head up a hair and drawing Scotty’s gaze to his.

“Scotty, can I kiss you?” The words were spoken with a calmness that contrasted Scott’s sporadic anticipation, butterflies becoming excited bees within his ribs.

He made the mistake of glancing at Marcel’s lips and found himself unable to look away. A shaky breath in, a shaky breath out. He was cool, calm and collected; it was fine! “S-sure.” So maybe he was less cool and calm but he couldn’t help himself, nodding quickly.

The hand on his jaw drew him close and Marcel dipped his head just slightly. His tense shoulders relaxed instantly and he melted.

The first thing he noticed was the control over the kiss that Marcel held. With Simone, she pushed the lead into Scott’s hands, urging him to do as he pleased and feel out what he liked. Marcel’s touch was different.

His lips didn’t wait for Scotty’s, catching their own rhythm and moving lazily but with purpose. Scott’s hands found Marcel’s shoulders, steadying himself and half-expecting his legs to give out beneath him. It was a reasonable fear as a wave of tingling fell from the fingers on his jaw to his toes and back It was a good thing that Marcel curled an arm around his waist, holding him tightly as he eased Scott’s mouth open and teased the tip of his tongue with his own.

Yup. Scott was going to pass out.

Warm fingers settled just beneath his ear, those on the other hand rubbing circles into Scott’s lower back as Marcel gentle sucked on his bottom lip, teasing it with his teeth for a few seconds before adjusting to allow Scott’s tongue to seek out his own once again.

It was addictive, Scotty’s fingertips digging into the muscle beneath them. He tilted his head further, pressing close with a soft mouth eager for Marcel’s touch.  

Marcel laughed at the immediate frown that formed when he pulled away. Like Simone, he lingered too in the proximity and took his time in stepping away. His smile was soft and genuine, adoring everything about Scotty’s dazed face. “First kisses?” he asked, voice careful as he linked fingers with the boy and lead him to the dining table.

Both he and Simone shared a smile when he nodded, falling into the chair Marcel pulled out for him. “He’s not bad,” Simone commented, nudging Scott with her foot when he rubbed his eyes with his fingers.

He was going to have to get used to their teasing.

“It’s definitely something we can work with.” Marcel’s grin was knowing as Scotty groaned, blushing more.

“Cruel.” Just one word, he managed, but it was enough as Simone threw her head back to laugh and Marcel just nodded in shameless agreement. Scotty shook his head. They’d be the death of him, he was sure.

Marcel nudged his arm with his fingers, putting it behind them as he picked up his own fork. “Eat up before it gets cold,” he said.

Simone rolled her eyes, giggle playing at her lips. “Yeah, yeah, _Mom_. We get it,” she teased, grin broad with her airy voice. He kicked her lightly beneath the table and Scott watched in silence as she stuck her tongue out at him.

The taste of spaghetti and endearment remained on his tongue as he brought his fork to his mouth and watched his two lovers bicker back and forth. Simone’s touch on his neck and in his hair, and Marcel’s on his back and jaw didn’t fade, heavy prints left behind by both in their actions of affection; an openness and invitation to him.

He was a part of their love.

No matter if it made sense to him still or not, he was allowed to argue with them, and tease them, and hold their hands, touch their faces, push his lips against their lips and taste their adoration for him whenever he wanted. He would watch them mess with one another and laugh when they dragged him into it too. Blush when they fought over kissing him; blush when they spent the rest of the evening try to one-up each other and steal Scotty away for themselves.

He didn’t even consider refusing when it brought them to bed late at night, music drifting around the room. With Marcel’s arm around his waist and his head on the punk’s chest. With Simone’s hand in his hair and his fingers loosely holding onto her shirt, her face against Marcel’s neck.

They fell asleep with full stomachs and kissed-smiling lips, not wanting to be anywhere elsewhere.

And when Scott awoke at six-thirty, always one to rise early, he blinked his eyes open to two beautiful faces, slack with utmost relaxation and comfort, and fell back to sleep in the warmth of their hearts.

-

For the first time probably ever did Lucas feel nervous on the doorstep of one of his best friends’ homes. He’d stood there countless times before, touched the door-handle just as many times as he’d pressed the little silver button that rung a tune through the hallway just inside. On that particular Sunday morning, he couldn’t digest the anxious butterflies fluttering in his stomach. What was he going to find?

 _Stop thinking so much_ , he scolded himself but he’d said the same thing minutes earlier, standing in the same place and worrying about the same things. _Just go_.

Before he could think himself out of it for a fifth time, he shoved his finger against the silver button. He heard the tune and shook his head, thinking himself silly for worrying about anything at all. It wasn’t going to be anything bad. Jon was okay. He was going to be at school the following day, so he had to be okay!

The serrated shape of the key run along his fingertip again and clicked happily when pushed into its home of metal contraptions that kept the door secure. It was a habit and an act of respect and warning, he felt, to ring the bell before letting himself in. Just a warning to anyone in the house as to not scare them or worry them at his entrance. An example of the same thing was when he stepped into the familiar quiet house and locked the door behind him, calling out, “Hello!” to whoever was home.

The silence left him to think only Jon, and he heard three loud bangs from above him following his voice. Knuckles on wood? Jon probably just couldn’t be bothered yelling.

Excitement filtered into Lucas’ thoughts when he hurried down the hall and skipped up the stairs two-at-a-time. He hadn’t seen Jon’s face in almost a week and the craziness of his friend hadn’t gone unnoticed. He missed him.

But he hesitated at his friend’s closed door, catching sight of familiar green eyes as the fourth resident of the cosy home slipped between his feet and rubbed her head against his knee. He crouched slowly as to not spook her and rubbed his thumb and finger in circles behind her ears. She closed her eyes slowly, blinking up at him and releasing a quiet, “Miaow~”

He smiled. “Hey Lucky.” She purred under his touch, eyes closing once again. “Been a while, pretty girl; I’ve missed you.” Her head was soft pushing against his fingers but she stilled, turning to the staircase as her attention was stolen by something else. She slipped out from beneath him and darted across the carpet, disappearing down stairs and leaving him to face his friend who had heard him just outside his door.

There was no point in hesitating and the door pushed open easily.

Lucas’ heart plummeted, his friend perched on the side of his bed with anxiety written all over his face. Brown eyes snapped straight onto the discolouration of his pale neck. It was the first thing he noticed; impossible to ignore. And there was no way a bruise like that could have been anything accidental.

Infuriation boiled in the small boy, gaze hardening at the fade of blueish purple, surrounded by patches of yellow that marked how large the bruise actually was. “Who did this?” It fell from his tongue instinctively, eyes only raising to Jon’s face after to notice the pain of shattered blue eyes. Purple smudges grew beneath them as well, hints of green on his cheekbone exposing a bruise too shy to show itself. Dark lines drew through his lips, split from impact and abuse.

The boy sitting upon Jon’s bed was not the happy-go-lucky, dumbass motherfucker Lucas was expecting to find.

“You promised.” Blunt and stubborn, Jon’s voice reflected everything Lucas saw before him but he held his tongue.

He had definitely promised. Not to make a big deal, not to ask questions; it made an incredible amount of sense now where questions and accusations and anger built up beneath Lucas’ tongue. He was furious. But he wasn’t a shitty friend. He was going to stay true to his word.

The door clicked shut behind him and Jon shuffled back onto the bed in an empty silence. What could he say? What could either of them say?

Jon had spent the morning mostly terrified. Twice he’d typed a message to the boy now sitting on his bed, telling him it wasn’t convenient or that he didn’t want company, or that his parents were stopping him; finding any excuse to push the boy back. Stopping himself had been awfully difficult and he hated the regret seeping back into his thoughts.

Maybe he should have sent it. Maybe he shouldn’t have even responded to his friend in the first place.

But the pink hoodie he had asked for was folded up neatly beside him. He wasn’t about to let Lucas down right before the date he’d been dreaming of for ages. He wasn’t that selfish.

Hesitantly, his shaking hands picked it up and held it out. “H-here.” Croaky. He cleared his throat and only succeeded in sounding even worse. Pain flashed in Lucas’ eyes but he ignored it and pushed on. “You wanted this one, yeah?”

Lucas stepped up, taking the hoodie and glancing at the mattress beside the boy. He didn’t sit down, didn’t know if he was even expected to stay. The words on the front of the clothing item were the ones he knew fondly and he smiled, excited to pair the hoodie with his pale jeans for ice skating with John. He hoped he’d look cute.

“Thank you for letting me come and get it,” he said, holding it to his chest and hoping his gratitude was clear. The little smile on Jon’s lips, glow of joy trying to be seen beneath the cracks in his blue eyes. He always understood.

Lucas hesitated, taking a small step back and letting confusion surround him. Jon dropped blue eyes to his feet and linked his fingers.

“Do you… Do you want me to go?” He didn’t mean to soften his voice so much when he asked, sounding sad as Jon’s gaze jumped back to him. Lucas tucked the hoodie beneath his arm and shrugged. “You, er… I don’t want you to be uncomfortable because I’m here. If you wanna be alone, I can leave you be and I won’t tell the others. I don’t- I don’t want to push you into saying anything you don’t want to say or showing anything you don’t want to show-”

“You can stay.” Again, blunt. “If you, uh… If you want to stay, you can stay. I wouldn’t mind the company…”

He couldn’t stand comfortably, hopping from one foot to another. Was he just saying so or did he really want him to stay? “Really?” Hesitation.

Jon held none, nodding. “Yes.” As an afterthought, he added a timid: “P-please,” and a smile broke onto Lucas’ lips as he crawled onto the bed to sit in front of his friend. He felt like a child, crossing his legs and tucking his hands under them. But the young look on Jon’s face stopped him from altering it as the boy ran a hand through his disarray of brown hair. “Can you… What have I missed?”

A hum of thought. What _had_ he missed?

“Brian spent the week crying because he doesn’t know how to seduce Brock,” he started, a smile already pulling at the older boy’s lips. “Suni made fun of him the whole time. Scotty stayed over at Marcel and Simone’s last night and we’re all disappointed to find out they _didn’t_ get him pregnant.” He ignored the way Jon’s laugh came out more as a pained wheeze and focused on the broad smile on his split lips instead. “Brock’s been messaging us a lot and so has Evan. We’ve got a side chat with him now that we, uh”—he ran a hand through his hair, noticing Jon’s inquiring stare—“we’ve been talking about you a bit on.” The stare fell away in guilt and Lucas held back his hiss. He played with a loose string in the blanket. “We’ve all been worried. It’s not like you can blame us, but we haven’t been blaming you and we’ve been happy to hear from him, and Brock now, that you’re alright. We just… Well, I just didn’t know this was what we were worried about…” A vague motion at the mess of bruises on Jon’s skin.

A small silence. “I didn’t want people to know,” he murmured, holding guilt on his tongue like poison. Lucas just listened. “T-they… I can’t tell anything. I’m not allowed to; they threatened they’d do it again if I did.” Pain saturated the boy’s entirety: his grimace, shy eyes, the way he grasped his own shirt with pale, bony fingers. “They threatened you guys too! I j-just… I don’t want anyone to know. I want to forget about it.”

Lucas understood and with a little bit of effort stumbled off the bed, turning to the closet. “Well,” he said, moving past the emotion he could tell Jon wanted to keep help back. “If you wanna hide it, we’ll have to use your clothes!” Jon’s expression was unknown to him as he slid clothes hangers aside and opened up drawers. “Let’s set you up a wardrobe for the week and I can come over tomorrow morning and cover your neck and face in make-up. We’re similar colours and Suni’s taught me enough! I can do as much as I can for you and by the end of the week we might not have to worry about it much, okay?”

With his preposition laid out between them, he turned to his friend and took in the wide, crystal eyes. Parted lips formed a small circle of disbelief and at Lucas’ gentle smile, he managed one of his own. “Okay,” Jon agreed, not having the words to continue any further.

Lucas clapped his hands together in delight. “Wonderful! C’mon then, come closer so I can see what will be high enough to hide your throat and draw attention away from your face as well as make you look hot as fuck so you can drive Evan wild, got it?”


	24. healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings: emotional scene, mental breakdown, “broken” character, hurt/comfort, mentions/recount of hate-driven violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl  
> i did cry a bit while writing this  
> uhh  
> you have been warned <3

**24.**

It took ten minutes of Lucas’ silly giggling and persuasion until Jon gave in, tugging off his own clothes to be replaced with whatever Lucas shoved in his direction. Each time Jon pulled something off, he turned away. Lucas with his head in the closet never took notice and continued piling clothes on the bed or on the floor, chatting away like nothing had changed.  

He’d dropped at least fifteen closet jokes before an hour had passed and had put together three proper outfits for the week. Their playing around had lead to a bit of distraction, Lucas throwing any random outfit he could find at his friend. He dressed him in every style possible with his choices and never stopping smiling and laughing at the mess they created.

There was a disorganised pile of “throw away” clothes that Jon no longer wanted and by the time Lucas got back on track for the last two outfits for the week, the two were laughing like there hadn’t been a single thing wrong to begin with. No bruises. No disappearing. No silence.

It was alright. Jon was alright! That’s what Lucas told himself until Jon was sitting back on the bed. He turned around with a cropped hoodie and a pair of high-waisted jeans for the boy to consider, a fourth outfit for the week ahead.

Jon’s face fell. “No crops,” he said and Lucas frowned.

“But you look so cute in them? Your tummy will also be a distracting feature from the makeup, y’know!”

The atmosphere dulled and the grimace on Jon’s lips told him bad news was imminent. “Not a good idea.” Pale fingers lifted the baggy shirt Jon had pulled back on and Lucas kicked himself for not noticing the small habits of discretion. Turning away when undressing even though they’d spent days hanging out in only underwear in the past, pulling shirts down even when they showed nothing, moving slow when bending at the middle or straightening back up.

The skin of his stomach wore the same colouration of his throat and in his shame, Jon dropped his shirt quickly. It didn’t do much. The image was stained to the insides of Lucas’ eyelids. Blue, purple, yellow, green. The smudges screamed agony.

They were more than just bruises. They were more than just the wounds of an ugly incident. They… Those who put them there put them there for a reason. There was purpose beneath every layer, beneath every hateful touch that aimed to bring nothing other than pain and grief and suffering. ‘Ugly bruises’ were the scars of torture, scars of a hate-driven _beating_. No guy could deliver such agony by himself and it chilled Lucas’ breath to think of his dear friend in such a situation.

Jon was always the happiest of his friends. He was someone who would find the most ridiculous presents for birthdays and sing karaoke of songs he’d never heard before just for the sake of making other people laugh and smile; just to be comedic. Any time anyone had tried to bring him down, he didn’t find it hard to completely ignore it or make it into some stupid joke. No one could touch him. No one.

When people were homophobic he laughed in their faces. When people tried to get to his friends he’d defend them with loud words and dumb jokes. When his friends were sad it never took him long to bring them back up with smiles on their faces and laughter on their tongues.

He was that kind of guy.

So to see him so… so broken…

Lucas blinked himself out of his thoughts, his friend adjusting his shirt anxiously and tipping his head down to hide his face.

“O-okay, that’s okay,” he choked out, turning back to the closet and tucking the hoodie back away where it no longer could be seen. He pulled out a bright yellow one, turning back and holding it up. “How about thi-”

Jon’s lip trembled. Blue eyes spilt tears down his cheeks, no strength left to restrain them. A sob escaped his broken throat. “I-I’m so-orry,” he rasped, unable to swallow his sobs down.

The hoodie was forgotten.

“L-Lou?” Jon hiccupped into his shoulder, mattress sinking as Lucas crawled up to him and wrapped him up in his arms. With careful pressure, he sat back and pulled Jon between his legs. That was all it took for those splintered walls to crumble. Thin fingers found fistfuls of Lucas’ shirt, black eyes closed and hiding in the safety beneath his chin.

His tears were hot and salty. They didn’t stop, catching on his collarbones as his hold around Jon’s frame tightened. “Don’t you say sorry once,” he said, gritting his teeth and willing his own emotions back. He wanted to be strong for Jon, he _needed_ to be strong for this boy he’d call a brother. It just wasn’t possible when someone so untouchable was shattering in his arms. “Don’t- Don’t you fucking apologise, okay? You hear me?”

It felt similar to trying to hold a glass pane together with bare hands, having Jon break down, sobbing into his chest. Keeping him together, keeping him in place; it was far too little, far too late.

Four days.

Four days had Jon been sitting in this bedroom, cradling a broken body and hiding a broken soul. How long had he spent crying? How long had he spent blaming the skin beneath each bruise for causing pain to his friends, to his moms.

Lucas couldn’t bear it. He’d spent too much time alone, too much time breaking, too much time taking blame for his own suffering. “You haven’t done a single thing wrong, okay? Listen to me, Jonny; you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did!” Fingers were tight around the curves of Lucas’ shoulders, trying to get a grip on himself. Deep breaths, shaking as they rolled down Lucas’ neck with his tears. Deep breaths of, “You have to understand.” His forehead was heavy beneath Lucas’ chin. “I-I could have done s-s- _something_ other than- than sitting here-”

Sob after sob crashed through the body against his chest. They shredded Jon’s words before they even left his mouth, doing anything to stop their escape. He didn’t have a voice. He wasn’t _allowed_ a voice.

The first tear that slipped down Lucas’ cheek was both one of pain and one of pride. A week Jon had spent suffering in total silence in hopes of protecting his friends and now, as he crumbled against Lucas’ chest he fought to break that silence and try to explain himself. He was offered comfort, and love, and help, and how easy it would be to turn away and hide? Even broken and battered and beaten, he was stronger than that. He had always been strong. He was still strong. Lucas knew that.

Yet Jon saw his thin body and bruised skin as weak and pitiful and _disgusting_. He saw a mess that hid and a mess that could have done something more. He was blind. “You can’t think like that,” Lucas tried, but soft hair brushed back and forth along his jaw as Jon shook his head stubbornly.

“I have to!” He willed Lucas to see his words. “I… I’ve hurt you g-guys so much. I’ve… I’ve ignored you an-and just made you all worried and sa-ad. B-because I wanted to _hide_.” He spat the word with hatred, pollution on his tongue he couldn’t bear to taste any longer. “I’m s-so _ffffucking_ pathetic.”

Arms around him tightened, Lucas’ face turning down to bury in his hair; hair that grew damp. “Don’t say that.” Jon shook his head. Lucas rocked back and forth slowly, arms painfully tight around his friend. It no longer mattered the dull pains on his outside. Nothing compared to his collapsing ribs and offbeat heart. He was _broken_. “Don’t fucking _say_ that to yourself!”

“It’s true-!”

“Shut up, Jon!” Lucas drew his hands back, pushing Jon away from him and holding him at an arm’s length. Two pairs of eyes, shiny with tears. One bore cracks far too deep to heal. “Look at yourself!” His words were barely whispered. Disbelief. Shake of the head, tears no longer countable. “You don’t think you’re allowed to be hurt? You- You don’t think you’re allowed to hide!?” Jon shook his head harder, eyes closed as he tried to keep himself in. “Let yourself fucking cry!” A voice-crack. A soft whine. Jon gasped in a short breath, eyes quivering when they opened. Lucas’s hold on his arms tightened. “What did they fucking do to you?”

Jon didn’t look away from him. His blue eyes held a mix of different edges of pain. Hatred for himself, for his skin, for his voice. Agony of what his skin wore, of the tattooed words that ran through his head every day, spoken from those awful tongues. Loss of pieces of himself, shards of glass buried in carpet. He couldn’t control himself, couldn’t control his thoughts or feelings, the shaking of his hands, his breath, his unsettled heart. He shook his head, face crumpling as he tried his best to bite back the pain.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, hands grasping Lucas’ shirt again in hopes to stop their shaking. “Th-they…” Inhale. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be drawn closer and accepting the forehead coming to rest on his shoulder. “There were three of them. A-and… It was Kyle, he-… he broke my b-bow an-and-” Fingers tightened around cloth, teeth biting split lips until they bled “C-called me slurs… m-made fun of you guys, an-and made fun o-of Evan too… H-he-” A whine left his lips, words running out. He only had so many. He turned his face into the side of Lucas’ head, hair against his closed eyes and tight lips.

Lucas held him.

“I’m here.” Running a hand up and down his back, pressing a hard kiss to his shoulder. “I’m here for you.”

“H-he punched me. F-ffface, throat, tummy; h-he hit me so many times- Th-they didn’t s-stop and… fuck-” He choked out a sob, stopping and holding himself still. He pushed on. “I wa-alked home. A-and didn’t t-t-tell anyone… I fffucking hid from everyone!”

The anger returned, hot and spiteful. Lucas shook his head.

“I did!” A sniff. A yank on his shirt. _Listen to me!_ “I d-didn’t text anyone for days an-and made you guys w-worry about me and- and- and look at me; I’m a fucking mess. I’m selfish and st-stupid and-”

“Jon, please.”

“-I’m not even strong enough to- to text you and t-t-tell you that I’m okay, I’m weak!”

“Jon…” Lucas whimpered.

“I made y-you worry, and Brock and E-Evan and- and everyone! I didn’t let Mom help ei-ither and they were f- ffffighting over me being such a- such a fucking _bitch_ about it. I let them beat me up and w-walk away and- and it would have been better for everyone if I had- had just f-fuckin’-”

“Jon!” Lucas shouted. His voice silenced Jon’s, sobs overtaking his tongue, dragging themselves up and out of his throat over and over again. They threw his broken body forward and forward, face falling to hide in shame. “Don’t you _fucking_ say that. Don’t you ever fucking say that again. I…” His breath was shaking, drawing back and pulling Jon to his chest once again. Lips to Jon’s hair he gathered himself. “You’re the strongest person I know, the most resilient person I know. If this didn’t break you? Fucking Hell, Jon, you’d have to be ice-cold. They _tortured_ you, Jon-”

“I-it’s not that bad-”

“Look at yourself! Look at these bruises, how many fucking times did he hit you?” A shake of the head. Lucas softened. “You hid to protect yourself, to protect Alice and Ri, to protect us! How does that make you weak? You’re a fuckin’ idiot for trying to fight this on your own but that’s the absolute opposite of weak, Jon. That makes you so strong! You’ve always been so fucking strong!”

His collarbone was slick with tears, Jon voicelessly shaking. The only sounds he made were small sobs, feeling them roll through his body like waves.

“No one had any idea what you went through and still, no one is upset with you.” Lucas’ own shaking calmed. He felt it pass over, feeling control come back to him as he collected himself. He swayed slowly back and forth, Jon curled up in his lap holding onto him like it was his last option, like if he let go he would lose everything. “We love you. Brian, Brock, Suni and Craig? Scotty and me? We all love you so fucking much, okay? Nothing will change that. Nothing _can_ change that, nothing’s strong enough.

“You’ve been hurt really bad. And it hurts to know that but it hurts more to know you’ve been keeping it all locked away in yourself and slowly burning yourself to death with this blame. It will hurt them to know too! But you know they will be here for you in a second; any one of them would be doing this, holding you and saying what I’ve been saying if they were in my place.”

Slowly. It was slow and gradual, like the tide lowering again. His sobs lessened, quietened. They no longer plagued each breath or ripped from his throat. The grip of his fingers on Lucas’ shirt found a subconscious relaxation. They held on but not so tightly. Blood flowed.

“I love you so much, Jonathon. So fucking much, okay?” He ran a hand through the boy’s hair, feeling him sniffle, tears still flowing. “You mean the world to me, and more, and you’ve been through so damn much. Listen to me, okay?” He trailed his hand up and down Jon’s back. “You’re gonna come to school tomorrow, make up’s gonna hide most of it and I’ll steer you away from hassle. Do you want to tell the others?”

“Not yet.” A quiet whisper, timid but reaching for calmness.

“Okay. Well I’ll help you brush off any questions. You’ll wear these cute ass outfits, strut your stuff and make Evan cry about how hot you are, and just get through the day.” Slow nodding. Lucas continued to rock back and forth, fingers dragging through unkempt hair. “Stay with someone at all times; they’ll still be at school. Keep an eye out. Spend time with Evan because you know he won’t ask questions and he’ll also kick ass for you.”

A little huff of laughter. Lucas smiled.

It took much longer for his tears to stop than all the rest of it but they did. Lucas trailed off talking about what he should do with Evan, and how once the bruises were faded they should all get together – punks and pastels – and go swimming in Brian’s pool. Jon’s bruised eyes left trails of salt, skin tingling where tears had left tracks, but dry. When Jon crawled out of Lucas’ lap, he found another two outfits and set them all aside for Jon. They put on music for the last half hour and Jon couldn’t avoid Lucas’ cheerful pull, dancing with him and laughing until the tears were something forgotten.

It was all a part of healing. That’s what Jon was doing. He spent half a week trapped away with only himself and his bruises and he had a week ahead of him to see his friends and surround himself with their love and care.

It was all healing.

When Lucas left, he hugged Jon tightly, kissing his cheek and squeezing his hands. “I love you,” he promised his friend a million times over, avoiding the dismissive laughing and pale-handed swatting until he had his friend murmuring the same words back into his chest. Jon left him at the top of the stairs and made Lucas promise to call him the moment he was home from his date, before Lucas locked himself out and rushed home, pink hoodie under his arm.

-

The hoodie looked perfect with the jeans, a bit warm beneath the sun but snug and comfy for the cold of the ice-skating rink, Lucas knew. His hands were warm in little gloves, black and soft to touch both inside and out. It was a fact that he looked cute, something he was aware of and happy about but not an asshole.

His Momma had raised him on self-love and he found no reason to reject it.

But no matter how cute, he couldn’t help feeling nervous.

He found John waiting outside, leaning against the wall in ripped jeans, a black hoodie and a longer white shirt underneath. The sun was warm on Lucas’ back when he hurried across the parking-lot but he barely noticed it the second pale eyes landed on him, lips lifting in a slight but genuine smile at the sight of the boy.

Lucas totally _didn’t_ trip over the curb in his hurry, not at all too busy gazing at the punk to watch where his feet were. Thankfully, it wasn’t mentioned when he was within speaking range of his date, smiling shyly at the knowing twinkle in pretty pale eyes.

“Hey John,” he said, putting far too much effort in keeping his voice stable and smooth. The punk pushed off the wall, tucking his vape pen into his pocket and not bothering to hide the way he dropped his eyes down Lucas’ legs and back up to his shocked face. “Huh?” Self-conscious fingers itched at rosy cheeks.

A quirk of teeth-worried lips and eyes sparkled, reading the words across Lucas’ chest. “The hoodie’s cute.” Tone confident and lazy; John didn’t let the moment linger, glancing over his shoulder to the info-board and bright blue name of the ice rink. Those pale eyes returned to Lucas and dropped to the two white boots he held onto. “Not gonna lie; didn’t expect the ice rink.”

Was it a mistake? Did he not like it? Lucas felt worry creep into his thoughts, running a hand through his hair. A timid nod.

“Well,” he said, tugging his fingers through his long hair, “I’ve never been skating in my life. So expect the worst.”

“I’ll help you.”

Lucas’ eyes held eager hope and John’s were sceptical. The punk huffed a sigh but his teasing smile remained. “Yeah, we’ll see. Ready then?”

Rings were cold between Lucas’ gloved fingers and he lead John into the lobby of the rink. The familiar wave of cold air washed over the two of them and a smile lit his face. Childish excitement he couldn’t help. “Good morning!” A cheerful voice and an old face, familiar too. When distracted eyes lifted from a computer screen they widened with recognition and joy to see the two boys standing at the desk. “Lucas? Honey, it’s been so long!” she cooed and brown eyes fell in bashful greeting.

“Hey Aggie, how’ve you been?” he asked, the woman looking overjoyed just to see his face. He pushed thirty dollars onto the counter and she tapped away on the keyboard.

It was like his appearance had taken ten years off her age and Lucas felt a warmth in his chest to see her again. “I’ve been lovely, dear! I’ve been good. How are you? Is this your boyfriend? He’s so handsome, so very handsome!” And just like that, his cheeks were pink and the hand in his felt even warmer.

Lips parted to correct her didn’t get their chance. “It’s nice to meet you, Ma’am. My name’s John.” Voice smooth and gentle on the ears. Old grey eyes filled with adoration and Lucas directed a surprised glance up to the boy beside him, receiving a warm smile in return. He didn’t question it.

“I’ve been good. Though I’ve missed skating and I wanted to show John my second home.” His humour held truth, known by all three of them as the woman reached up, taking his hand when he put down his skates and offered it to her.

“Well, good thing we’re having quiet hours, hey? This session will go for an hour, but how abouts you two stick around? You can have an extra thirty minutes to yourselves on the ice if you’d like. I owe it to you, love; no charge. Only the promise that you’ll be back again soon.” Her words were hushed, others in the room not caring for their discussion.

The fingers curled tighter in his and Lucas couldn’t drown the glow of his smile. “Aggie, are you sure?” Her hasty nodding didn’t need much else, squeezing his hand with two of hers and lines of age crinkling with her sparkling eyes. “Thank you so much,” he said and she nodded again, placing the tickets in his hand and letting him go.

“You boys go in. Have your fun and keep it PG with the kids in there.” Her wink was teasing and a light-hearted giggle left her lips at Lucas’ red face.

“We will, Miss. Thank you.” John spoke for him, tugging Lucas to the door. They shared a smile, one shy and one reassuring. Excitement buzzed between their locked fingers.

Once sat on a bench, one pair of professional skates and one pair of rented ones before them, Lucas breathed in deeply. Adoration for the place swelled in his heart, fingers automatically loosening his laces as his dark eyes scanned the room. The lights were bright overhead, the boundary of the rink freshly repainted. The benches had been moved around, colour of the mats changed from green to blue. The small changes here and there didn’t make much of a difference. Everything his gaze fell upon was a reminder of his childhood. Even the smell of the artificial ice had his heart fluttering.

John watched him, eyes gentle. Silence. Comfortable. The young look on the pretty boy’s face was hard to turn away from. Then Lucas dropped his gaze to the boots. Gloves reached for John’s, easily and speedily unbuckling them and opening them up. He didn’t need to instruct the punk who mimicked him in fitting his feet into the heavy shoes.

Lucas broke the silence, words soft as he watched John stomp his feet up and down in the unbuckled boots, toying with the weight. “So, boyfriend, hey?” The cold air kept his delivery smooth. John didn’t look phased, meeting Lucas’ stare with a small twinkle in his eye.

“Guess we’ll have to see how today goes.” A simple, nonchalant comment that even the icy rink couldn’t save Lucas from.

His whole face lit aflame, turning away at the feeling of his heart slamming against his ribs.

He decided that maybe just not acknowledging John’s comments was the best way to go.

The laces of his boots were thick, slipping between his gloved fingers. They cradled his feet snugly when he stood, rocking from side-to-side carefully to make sure they were fitted right. Even just having the skates back on his feet gave him a sense of nostalgia and anticipation fluttered beneath his skin at the thought of being out on the ice.

“Having trouble?” he offered, kneeling in front of the punk and giggling at the bewildered look on his face. His hands were already on the rented shoes and tightened the plastic buckles. “You tell me if they get painful or uncomfortable and I’ll fix ‘em, but they’ve gotta be tight so you don’t damage your ankles, got it?”

Slow nodding, eyes a mix of somewhere between blue and green glancing at the rink which already held a couple of kids. Not a single one looked older than the age of ten. “Is this one of those things where it’s way harder than it looks?” His date bit his lip, hiding a knowing smile behind a shrug.

“You can decide that. C’mon, it’s been too long since I’ve been on ice,” he breathed, loving the taste of cold on his tongue as he grabbed John’s hands. “Be careful, don’t take big steps.” John’s weight was vastly unbalanced as he wobbled to his feet, shuffling after Lucas who walked backwards with ease. His smile didn’t leave his face, squeezing those hands. At the door, John was looking positively worried, an odd expression to see on the punk who wasn’t usually one to show anything more than indifference. “Don’t stress. There are five-year-old’s, you’ll get it fine.”

He stepped in first, gliding back a little bit and still holding onto John as the punk took a cautious step forward. “Woah.” He snatched up Lucas’ other hand once again, other skate on the ice too as he wavered dangerously. “I’m gonna fall.”

“No you’re not!” A giggly laugh spilt onto the ice as Lucas carefully glided backwards, bringing them away from the entrance. John didn’t lift his eyes from the ice, posture rigid and terrified. “Okay, calm breaths. Here; hold onto the sides.” Shaking hands dropped to the bar that ran along the edges of the rink. “You wanna keep your knees bent and stay a bit forward. If you lean back, you’ll fall, okay?” Lucas demonstrated for the boy, squatting a little to exaggerate his words and shifting his balance back and forth. “Feet apart too. The closer they are together the less balance you’ll have. Trust me.” He showed the punk how to angle his feet.

His mini-introduction went on for a few more minutes, explaining how to move and turn and stop to make it easier for the boy. All the while, he continued sliding back while John shuffled forwards after him, hands heavy on the support bar.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to do this.” John gave a shaky smile to Lucas. “M’not this coordinated.”

Lucas stopped the boy with open hands, sliding forward into his space. “John.” Careful as to not worry his date, he leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips, lingering and holding him steady by his arms. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? We’ve got more than an hour. You’ll get used to it and we’ll get you skating soon, okay? Just keep comin’ around the edge until you’re used to the ice.”

Concentration too high for words, he received a short nod and smiled. The punk was breathing noticeably slower, seeming calm.

“Relax,” he urged, tapping John’s chest until his shoulders loosened and his posture no longer mimicked a metal rod. “I’m gonna go for a couple of laps and get used to it myself, is that alright?” he offered, wanting to get his energy out but not wanting to leave John feeling unsafe.

Pale eyes rolled, feigning confidence that Lucas knew he didn’t have. “I’ll be fine for five minutes, dumbass. Go have fun.”

He flashed a grateful smile before spinning on his skates and pushing off. A wobble accompanied his balance, getting used to the slippery ice as he weaved between kids and adults, movements swift and easy. He followed the curves, crossing his legs over gracefully with one hand tucked behind his back.

The smile on his face went unnoticed by him for the few laps he sped around, dancing on his skates as everything came back to him. Icy cold touched at his lungs, each breath filling them with chilling air. Any stress or worry washed out with it and he couldn’t help falling in love with each glide. His circuit shortened with each lap, coming to circle the few in the middle that practiced spinning and twirling away from the other skaters.

It had been a long few years. That was for sure. But it felt like nothing had ever been missing as he glided back to the boy he adored, the boy who watched him with an unreadable expression.

“Sorry,” he breathed as soon as he was beside him. It was automatic to take one of his hands, slowly gliding backwards while drawing the other forward along the rail. “I haven’t been here in years.”

John’s smile was nothing less than content as he shook his head. “Wow, you really are Canadian.”

That earnt a scoff and rolled eyes, Lucas dropping the hand he held. “Fine, I’ll just leave you here.” A childish pout, he turned and slid forward as if leaving his date.

“N-no! Don’t leave me!” John blurted out and Lucas beamed, glancing back.

“No?”

A wobbly smile, concentrated brows furrowed as he tried to glide towards Lucas as smoothly as possible (not very smoothly at all). “I’m sorryyy,” he whined, Lucas not saying a word as he waited. John’s hands were gentle, grabbing onto his arm and stopping himself from falling flat on his face.

It was curious to see John acting a little different, face showing his indiscreet concern for himself. He wore more of his personality in his voice, something Lucas loved to see. It was personal; more than Lucas was used to seeing at school.

It was pretty.

John was pretty. Lucas knew that. Lucas thought it a lot, really; especially when looking at the punk and seeing the prettiness in his split lips and eyes that looked different colours each time he looked into them.

The overwhelming want to kiss the punk filled his thoughts and he bit each one back. He was content with the hands in his, seeing the smile on split lips and vulnerability in pretty eyes.

For now, he was teaching John to skate. Anything else? He could wait.


	25. ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 100% pure rich krii7y for the soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM   
> SO SORRY  
> FOR THIS WAIT  
> -  
> if you follow my tumblr you'll be kept up with my updates. ive been dealing with a tonne of family, personal and exam shit lately and it's put a massive blocker on my writing but! i sat my ass down and got through this chapter over the last two days!
> 
> so im gonna really try get myself back into it. and power through the rest of this fic. it may be slow and im so sorry about that. but im not going to leave it unfinished.   
> i will have it done. 
> 
> eventually. 
> 
> either way!   
> thank you so much for your patience and support. i hope you all enjoy and follow me on tumblr if you want to get into contact with me, and keep up to date on when i'll be putting my chapters out!  
> @chinxino5
> 
> gi

**25.**  

“You’re not allowed to leave me; you said you’d help.”

The ice rink was fairly quiet. Little bits of laughter and chatter mingled with the sounds of the metal blades on ice, and calm music floated on the air. John and Lucas skated to themselves, unaware of the others that zipped around the rink. They made their own slow laps, fingers linked and attention solely on each other.

No one even glanced in their direction.

John’s rings were ice cold.

Lucas’ chest was warm.

“Spread your feet more.” John scoffed but did as he was told. “Feel more stable?” A small nod. Gloved fingers squeezed John’s. “Alright, keep moving. Take little steps and angle your feet outwards so you glide.”

Instructions were followed by adjustments, whispered into the iciness. Lucas’ eyes didn’t move from John’s focused frown and John only took his eyes off his feet to glance up at Lucas’ encouraging smile. He barely noticed the younger kids that sped around the rink, nor the subtle change of songs.

He focused on his feet on the ice and on the dark brown eyes on him.

“Relax.” Lucas’ glided backwards with ease. Every movement of his was smooth and fluid. He didn’t find any difficulty in steering himself backwards, not even having to think as he kept his attention on his date. Alongside him, John was uncoordinated. His movements were awkward, his steps rigid and stiff. Lucas squeezed his hands. “John. Relax,” he urged.

John sighed, blowing the air out of his lungs. He tried his best to listen, rolling his shoulders and trying to move in a way that was casual and easy. It was calming to hear Lucas’ voice leading him. Telling him how to stand, how to move, what to change.

“Like this?” was something that frequented his own lips. He listened to every command and poured his concentration into doing what he was told to. Hearing the thoughtless praise drop from pretty pink lips was a beautiful motivator. It made all the effort worth it.

“Yup, that’s it.”

“Keep doing that.”

“Perfect! You’re getting it!”

John liked the sound of Lucas’ voice.

They didn’t stray from the sides of the rink. Their focus remained on skating comfortably but as time lead them on, Lucas found it easy to drop teasing words between his teachings. The private lesson developed into the date they were there for, Lucas’ hands still steady and his eyes still sparkling as he took the time to memorise the prettiness of John’s face.

He couldn’t feel the usual nervous fear that came with being around John. No – instead, as he led him forward – the breathless feeling in his lungs was because of the little frown of concentration John wore and the way his eyes lit up as he slowly got used to the rhythm of skating.

He wanted the session to last forever.

“This shit shouldn’t be so damn difficult…” John mumbled after running his skate to far and almost slipping over again (they’d lost count of the ‘almost’s). “You couldn’t have picked an easier hobby, could you?”

Lucas’ eyes twinkled, his smile lacking sympathy of any sort. He knew that, despite the complaints, John was enjoying himself. The satisfaction that came with successes flashed in his small genuine smiles and each one was more of a reward to Lucas than anything could have been. There wasn’t any real regret in John’s concentrated stare.

“It was this or alligator wrestling but, y’know, I thought we’d start small.” Lucas beamed, tongue between his teeth as he slipped his left hand out of John’s. Instantly, shaky fingers flew to the support bar and pale eyes looked to Lucas with a hint of fear. The other hand clenched Lucas’ fingers tightly, determined not to let go of him completely. “You’re okay,” Lucas assured, gliding back strongly and pulling John after him. “We’re just speeding up a bit, okay?”

John’s eyes remained wide, watching his feet as he held tightly onto the gloved fingers. His other hand skimmed over the wooden bar, ready to grab onto it the moment he lost his balance. There was a small moment where he bravely hauled his eyes up to meet Lucas’ gentle smile. “If you let me fall-”

His eyes returned to his feet.

“I’m not gonna let you fall, Grandma; don’t give yourself a heart attack.” The chiding words were light and humorous, giving regular squeezes of John’s fingers as little reminders that nothing bad was going to happen. “Lean forward more and _glide_ , if you try push off the ice you’ll fall on your face.”

John’s next glance was a little more sarcastic. “Pleasant,” he dropped with his exhale, but he didn’t let the thought of falling bother him. He shuffled on the ice, skates sliding forwards instead of stomping and stumbling. Feet aimed outwards, he lingered his balance on each foot for a few seconds extra.

Lucas’ smile broadened, grabbing up the both of his hands once again. “Keep this going, John. You’re getting it!” he exclaimed, excited for his date. The small twitch of pursed lips showed John was containing his satisfaction.

They lapped the rink several times, pace lifted as Lucas continued pulling John forwards. Faster, smoother and steadier. As minutes dragged on, John grew accustomed to both the skates and the slippery ice. Fear drained from his eyes along with the stiffness of his legs and back.

The recurring phrase of “Relax,” encouraged his casual motions, feet learning to move with ease. He didn’t feel like he was going to fall every time he looked up to the pretty face before him. A face he knew he could look at all day without getting tired of. Lucas’ proud smile was the highest reward for his improvement.

“So if this is a small start, is the next step alligator wrestling? Or is that the final destination?” John’s smile grew at Lucas’ laugh, the boy’s head tipping back and grin glowing in his humour. John continued, “Are we gonna go, like, climb Mount Everest first? Or it is gonna be sky diving? Swimming with sharks?”

Seeing Lucas laugh openly, John couldn’t look away. His feet were forgotten in exchange for running his eyes over the little divots of Lucas’ cheeks, and the crinkle beneath his eyes where his grin pushed them half-shut. There was nothing more distracting than the sound of that giggle.

John couldn’t deny the glow of warmth in his chest: a craving to hear it again and again.

“I mean we can go at whatever pace you want. If you’re feeling brave I’ll book us into bull riding next weekend,” Lucas offered, tongue peeking out over his lip. John couldn’t not admire how adorable this boy could be. It was just plain unfair how one smile and one laugh could have the punk hearing his heartbeat in his ears.

His own laugh followed, knowing that neither himself or Lucas would be able to do anything so ridiculous as bull riding. Gliding after the boy, fingers relaxed in his composure, he shrugged. “I have a feeling it’ll be easier to get to know each other over a meal rather than on our way to the hospital when I fall off and get trampled by a pissed off cow, so how about dinner first?”

Surprise jumped in Lucas’ pretty eyes and it was almost comedic how the comment threw him off guard and off balance. He stumbled, catching himself with scrambling skates, and tucked his head down to hide the embarrassed and flustered redness of his cheeks.

John just asked him to have dinner. Like a real date that boyfriends would go on. A romantic date. Sitting across from each other. Talking.

Was he still breathing?

John couldn’t fight his grin but the music cut off with the final song and the other skaters in the rink drew to a stop.

“Well, that’s all for today folks! Thanks for stopping by and having a skate. Please exit the rink shortly, return your skates and make your way out of the main floor!”

The announcer drew their attention away, kids and adults migrating towards the exists and taking seats to remove their shoes. No one looked in the direction of the two boys that waited, still in their spot on the ice.

Almost as much as his smile, John adored Lucas’ rosy cheeks.

The smaller boy turned back to him, eyes just shy of reaching his as he drew himself backwards, tugging on John’s hands. “We have thirty minutes to ourselves now, think you can come away from the sides yet?”

“No.” The answer was instant, John’s legs shaking at the thought as he shuffled after Lucas. The melodious laugh resurfaced in the chilling air, warm pinkness fading from pale cheeks.

His smile was so beautiful, John couldn’t help mirroring it.

But any following comment died on Lucas’ tongue when his name was called from across the floor. The last few people dawdled out of the room and Aggie stood by the entrance to the rink, fluffy sweater keeping her warm. She beckoned the boy over.

A reassuring smile, squeeze of cold hands; Lucas skated across the rink with ease and stopped before the woman.

Her smile was fond. “It’s so lovely to see you back on the ice, my boy,” she said, holding onto the side of the entrance and watching his face closely. He smiled, shy but grateful. “Well, we’ll be turning everything off ready for cleaning, so don’t you two worry about things shutting down. Take your time and I’ll give you a call when we need you off the ice, okay?”

Seeing her smile, wearing those skates, feeling the goosebumps; Lucas was overwhelmed with nostalgia, memories of his childhood inescapable as they filled his chest with an unbreakable love for the place. His happy place.

He nodded. “Thank you so much for this.”

Her smile was sweet as she turned and began hobbling back to the ‘Staff Only’ door. She spoke over her shoulder. “Don’t thank me, dear. Tell your Ma that I said hello! And Lucas”—she paused, twisting to look back at him with a sparkle in her eye—“don’t let this boy go. He’s a pretty one.”

With those words, she pushed through the door and closed it behind her. Lucas lingered for a moment, skin tingling and smile on his lips. “I won’t,” he mouthed to the closed door.

The overhead lights powered down and the room was left in a cold, dim-lit silence. When he turned, casting his gaze back to his date, he just watched for a few moments. John had his concentrated stare on his feet, swaying his arms as he tried his best to keep his balance with every glide. Improvement had been slow, but worth it.

“I think I’m getting it,” John murmured the moment Lucas was close enough. He glanced up for half a second, pushing into another clumsy stride, and flashed a proud smile. His hand hovered above the rail, uncertain, but he strode forward with more confidence each second.

No more fear. Instead, he wore determination in his pretty eyes.

Lucas spun around in front of him, skating backwards for a few seconds and watching how John kept up. His gloved hands lifted between them and John didn’t even think about it as he took them back into his own. The second he turned himself, leading John away from the side and instead towards the middle of the rink, pale eyes widened and fear jumped back to life within them.

John pulled back, stopping himself and slowing Lucas down. The younger boy showed nothing but patience. “N- no, I don’t trust myself,” he blurted out, reluctant to even lean away from the boundary.

Patient eyes paired with a reassuring smile; Lucas squeezed his hands and drew John’s eyes back to his. “Do you trust me?” His words weren’t much more than a whisper in the silence of the rink. But he waited. He wasn’t going to rush John.

And surely, as John studied the open honesty of his face, the reluctance in those eyes melted like the ice beneath their skates. His shoulders relaxed and he breathed in deeply. Examining those dark swirls of chocolate, he nodded and found himself falling for the beaming smile that made Lucas just so beautiful.

The pull on his hands was very slow and gentle as he eased himself backwards and lead John towards the centre of the rink. His words were low-spoken and smooth, as though any louder and he’d shatter the ice they skated on. “Keep skating, keep moving, okay? You’re doing so good. Focus on me and just skate, m’kay?”

Another short nod. John couldn’t keep his eyes away from Lucas’ face. A small grin, a flash of white teeth. A smile that calmed him.

“Relax and glide.” A short reminder. Inhale, exhale, a better grip on gloved fingers, and John pushed forward. He moved his feet almost lazily, keeping his motions slow and accurate. The wobble of his knees faded and he forgot all about his fear of falling.

A subconscious smile lifted his lips and it warmed Lucas’ fingertips.

“Look at you: you’ve got it!”

John let out a small laugh, still focusing closely on his movements. Lucas turned, slowly leading him in a semicircle and drawing him back the other way. “You’re getting the hang of it so well, I’m surprised you haven’t fallen yet.”

The pointed look he received for that comment was highly unimpressed but John didn’t even get the chance to open his mouth. As they turned the next corner, his skate skidded to close to the other and his hands linked in Lucas’ doomed the both of them. Shock forced his eyes wide as he caught the sharp tip of his skate in the ice and split his weight unevenly. There was no saving it. “Shit!” he let out, skates sliding out from beneath him.

He landed heavy on his arse, water soaking through his back in seconds. A shriek released above him, weight landing on his chest sending the air out of his lungs. John’s head fell back, he winced in pain, and Lucas scrambled to push his weight up and off of him.

“Are you okay!?”

The cold surrounded them like a blanket, seeming to increase. Water soaked through his knees and gloves and he cringed at the thought of John’s back. The punk still managed a smile though, really just not wanting to worry the boy as he lifted his head and opened his eyes.

Holding himself on his hands and knees, Lucas stared. Brown eyes full of concern, parted lips full and pink. He sucked in a breath. “Okay, so maybe I jinxed us… but-…” The words on his tongue escaped him and brown eyes found themselves running over the shape of John’s lips.

John didn’t hear a word. Infatuation took a hold of his heart, keeping his pale eyes on Lucas’ face. Cheeks dusted pink, only a shade, or two, lighter than his lips. Wide eyes relaxing, lashes long and wavering.

There was a fear of breaking the porcelain face when John’s fingertips brushed a small bit of ice from Lucas’ cheek. His smile was an answer enough, fingers drifting away from the rosy cheekbone but stopping short at his jaw. Lucas stayed frozen, breath hitching noticeably but John didn’t acknowledge it.

He tipped the boy’s head up just slightly, studying those smooth pink lips. They were too attention grabbing and John really couldn’t help himself.

“Do you trust me?”

The worried frown on Lucas’ melted, lips tugged up into a small smile. Brows settled, no longer furrowed. Eyes shone. His own words used against him; there was no way he could be mad with John’s lazy smile.

He managed a short nod. “Yes.” A word breathed so lightly he didn’t know if John heard it. But he was understood.

John’s fingers drew him down.

In comparison to the iciness of the air in their lungs, the breath they shared was warm between their lips. The kiss was timid. Modest and slow – no rush; never any rush. Lucas was more than thankful for the patient pace. Truthfully, he had no idea what he was doing! But with the way his lips tingled and heart pounded, he thought he must have been doing something right.

A short breath through his nose, eyes rolling shut. He fit his lips firmly against John’s and sunk, forearms coming to rest on the ice either side of John’s head.

He would apologise for wetting Jon’s hoodie later.

Warm tingling between their lips spread to his cheeks. Down his neck, to his fingertips, all the way through his blood to his toes- A cold hand slipped up to settle on his hip and he let himself be pulled closer.

The feeling of John completely relaxing beneath him was incredible; lips to lips, chest to chest. Long hair splayed across the ice, head tipped back; his lips were soft and encouraging. He coaxed Lucas into the kiss slowly, lips moving against his slowly, fingers on his jaw raising slowly, carding through his hair slowly. He sighed, relaxed. Warm air washed over Lucas’ top lip.

The cold couldn’t even be felt. Whether it was their nerves going numb, or their bodies adjusting to how freaking cold it was, or whether it was the complete lack of space in their thoughts for anything other than the feeling of each other. Lucas wasn’t shivering. John’s fingers weren’t cold stiff.

Lucas was filled with warmth. Anticipation exploded in his lungs. The days he’d spent thinking about John’s lips, thinking about his kiss, how he’d feel, how he’d taste. It was all worth it, and it was almost painful to pull away, needing to breathe.

When he lifted, the cold was biting. It nipped at his tongue, at his throat, at the walls of his lungs and he couldn’t control the gasp of genuine shock when he sat upright. Numb fingertips rested on his bottom lip, unable to tell whether it was boiling or freezing. The contrast was scalding.

But it was addictive.

John pushed himself up. He didn’t flinch at the soaked hoodie that clung to his back, or how the two of them were chilled to the bone. He couldn’t feel it.

All he could focus on were those parted lips and rosy cheeks.

Neither noticed their odd situation as John curled his arm around Lucas’ back. Neither noticed the ice still soaking their legs. Neither noticed the dim room that shrouded them in silence and privacy.

John pulled Lucas against him, no space for the cold between them. A tilt of his head, a twitch of his smile. Cold fingers pulled Lucas’ hand away from his face and John sealed their lips together again.

Lucas wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Of course, it definitely wasn’t how he expected any of it to happen: sitting on John’s lap in the middle of a closed ice rink, fingers tugging very lightly on his hair with the gentle touch of a hot tongue coaxing his lips apart.

Lucas found himself realising what addiction really felt like, but the craving that flowed through his bloodstream was one he never wanted to be clean from.

Torturously though, he was only allowed a taste. John pulled away, albeit reluctant, and Lucas was grateful to find the punk’s eyes just as wide as his. Pupils dilated, they mirror those of the boy in his lap, who could only blink in disbelief, heart racing. “Woah.” Fingers untangled themselves from dyed hair.

John swallowed, licking his lips. “Yeah.” His smile glowed in the darkness. “I know.”

They stayed there for another moment, taking it all in. John’s eyes glimmered, even prettier than before as he examined Lucas’ face. His parted lips, shining as he ran his tongue over them. His eyes, pupils large and irises dark. Those flushed pale cheeks, long eyelashes, the line of his jaw.

Lucas couldn’t look anywhere other than John’s eyes.

Blue. Green. A shade of something in-between.

Even then he couldn’t tell. Even with his hands on John’s shoulders, feeling his breath on his lips, sitting pressed up against him.

The hand resting on Lucas’ thigh squeezed, pulling that dark gaze to his little smile. “You all good?” he whispered, the silence having crystallised around them. There was no need to break it, feeling it cold against his cheekbones. It held them still, held them together.

Lucas watched for a second longer, flecks of pale green in splashes of clear. He swallowed. A distracted smile. “’m fine,” he murmured back. “Better than fine: I’m great. This is, uh…” His lashes fluttered as John lifted a hand, pushing the brown hair from his face. His smile broadened, warmth glowing in his chest. “- This is great.”

“Good.” Ringed fingers were reluctant to drop away completely and Lucas didn’t feel shy under the cool gaze anymore. He let pretty eyes wander the arches of his face, not flinching as a gentle thumb brushed along his cheekbone. John’s contemplation showed in the arch of his lips. “Wanna call yourself my boyfriend?”

If the punk was searching for signs of a negative or positive reaction to the question, Lucas wasn’t hard to read. His lips pulled back in a grin, eyes pushed half closed from his cheeks. A small laugh drifted on his exhale and it was too hard to find the right words. He settled for a small: “Yes,” loving the way the dimple in John’s cheek deepened. “Yes. Yeah. I, er- I’d love that.”

Their moment lingered in a softer silence: silence because the glowing happiness that they floated on couldn’t have been expressed in words. It was seen in their smiles, the pinkness of their cheeks, the sparkles in their eyes.

“Well, I’m super happy ‘nd all,” John started, silence falling away slowly, “but my ass hurts, my legs hurt, I’m completely drenched and… uhh…” His eyes dropped to the limited space between them, Lucas looking down, too, to where he was still sat comfortable on John’s lap.

He blinked in realisation. “Oh! Shit, sorry!”

John only smiled. He took Lucas’ hands, holding them steady and murmuring a count-of-three to coordinate the both of them. John pushed up, Lucas hauling himself back onto his skates. He slid back, catching his balance, and did a small circle around his date to readjust his shaky legs to the slippery ice.

John looked to his outstretched feet. “Uhh…” Eyes lifting to Lucas’ cheeky smile, he sighed, pushing himself over onto his hands and knees. Now he was definitely feeling the cold… With a small bit of difficulty, he got one skate beneath him, slipping back and forth. Lucas swooped in, catching a hold of his arm and helping him up onto his blades again.

John’s hands locked around Lucas’ arm and the younger boy couldn’t remove the amused smile from his face. The giggle dropped with his words. “You okay there, Bud?”

John’s legs wobbled dangerously, responding for him. He didn’t let go of Lucas’ arm and the look on the Canadian’s face showed he really didn’t mind, still patient. John breathed in deeply. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” Exhale. “Let’s get off this damn ice before I fall again and break my neck.”

An awkward shuffle off the rink and stiff hobbling to get back to the bench with their stuff: John only let go of Lucas when he was sat down, leaning back against the wall with his eyes shut. A quiet groan of complaint slipped through his chapped lips and Lucas watched with amusement dancing in his eyes as the punk stretched and winced. He hadn’t been so lucky with their fall, a few nasty bruises likely to show up within the next day or two.

When his eyes opened to look at his _boyfriend_ , they filled with hope and pleading. “Can you take off my shoes for me?” he asked, cheesy smile on his face. Lucas scoffed. “Pleeease?”

The brunette rolled his eyes. “I’m not going near your feet. I can smell ‘em from here.” He tugged off his gloves, cloth soaked through, and pulled the laces of his skates free.

Weight sagged against him, a head falling to rest on his shoulder. He grunted, blowing thin blonde hair from his face. “Pleeeeease?” John cooed, lips too close to Lucas’ ear. He threw an arm around him, pulling him close and sharing more cold wetness than body heat with the small boy. Lucas pushed down his blush. 

John’s breath against his ear had to be some form of torture.

Keeping himself steady and casual (and ignoring the racing of his heart) he leant out of John’s hold, the heavy arm falling away from his shoulder, and ignored the knowing grin on the punk’s face. “Alright, alright. Shut it already,” he mumbled, finding it much easier to breathe when John sat upright again, off his shoulder. He pulled at the straps of John’s boots, yanking them off his feet, and kicked of his own skates too. Sitting back up, he feigned a pout. “Happy now?” he asked.

Fingertips under his chin froze him still, pout melting. His heart fluttered at John’s grin. “Very.” John met him halfway and Lucas melted against him.

A taste too addictive to resist.


	26. i missed you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes whts a schedule  
> im super sorry  
> check out my tumblr if u want updates on times and shit bc im so late with this all the time and i just.... everythings explained in my recent posts  
> @chinxino5.. [ chinxino5.tumblr.com ]  
> -  
> either way - enjoy!!

**26.**

Jon had never been so anxious about going to school.

His fingers stayed curled up in his hoodie pockets so Lucas couldn’t see how much he was shaking and he’d already torn several shreds of skin from his bottom lip in his nervous state. The taste of iron wasn’t calming at all but he barely noticed as he caught another lifted piece of skin with his teeth and peeled it off. He flinched.

“I can hear you thinking from here.” Lucas bumped his shoulder against Jon’s, the two walking alongside the footpath, bags on their backs. The last memory of walking these roads was a painful one and Jon looked to the sky in hopes of pushing it away. Bloody and bruised- “Hey.” His wide blue eyes snapped to Lucas’ soft brown ones, a reassuring smile on smooth lips. “Breathe. You’re gonna be okay, alright? Today isn’t going to be a bad day.”

Jon cast his gaze back to the cracked footpath.

Lucas had arrived at his house nice and early at seven. The two woman who had greeted him at the door had been overjoyed to see him and he could tell Jon was too. It wasn’t hard to see how terrified the boy was.

And although there was a clear lack of knowledge and experience when it came to make-up, Lucas had never been so determined as he sat Jon under a lamp and got to work. Slow and gentle – his touch was tender over bruises that still ached. And all the while he mumbled things under his breath, moving only when leaning in to press a kiss to the bruise on Jon’s cheek, or the smooth skin just below his hairline. “You’re gonna look super cute today”, “No one’s going to notice a thing different”, “Evan won’t know what hit him when he sees your damn cute face”.

Jon held back his tears as much as he could but the second Lucas clipped the foundation bottle shut, he was engulfed in a tight hug. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jon.”

He’d spent the morning getting ready, listening to Lucas’ run-down of his Sunday and getting excited with him about the extremely cute date he’d shared with John. When the boy told him John had asked him to be his _boyfriend_ , Jon almost shrieked, shaking his friend back and forth by the shoulders. The recount of the kiss they shared and the atmosphere, and everything that had swept Lucas right off his feet, had both boys glowing with excitement. Jon couldn’t have been happier for his friend.

At the front door, when Lucas pulled out three crowns of different coloured flowers, Jon had to choke down tears. “I thought you might like some new ones. Plus they’ll draw any attention away from your face. I think the purple one will go with your shirt though today, so wear this one and I’ll leave the other two-” Lucas nearly fell to the floor at the impact of Jon’s hug.

The flower crown suited him: pale purple and yellow roses, much alike his old one.

But the nerves were hard to chase away completely.

“What if I run into him?”

“Who, Evan?” Lucas beamed. “You know he’ll be excited to see you! Plus you might kill him with just how cute you look today - look at you!”

Jon shook his head. Grim. “No. Kyle.”

Lucas’ grin fell. “Oh.” There was no clear answer. Jon was terrified of the kid and Lucas couldn’t deny that even he was scared of him. A guy who went out of his way to corner and beat up a  kid out of spite – there was no knowing where his limits were. “Just… stay close to someone at all times. Do you have any classes with him?” Jon shook his head. “Good. Then stick close with me or Evan or any of us while you’re walking to and from classes – the day will be over before you know it and I bet you won’t even see him.”

There were a few moments of calm silence that passed between them, Lucas listening to their footsteps while Jon thought over his friend’s words. Of course he was right. Of course he knew what to say – Lucas always knew what to say. “Thank you.”

A kind smile was all he received.

They joined the small crowd of students walking across the main road and dispersed through the parking lot. Jon couldn’t help tucking his head down, hoodie hiding him and flower crown held to his chest.

He wanted to remain invisible.

“C’mon. I’m gonna walk you to music.” Lucas linked his arm through Jon’s, sticking to the side of the corridor as they followed the group of girls in front of them and stayed inconspicuous.

“You don’t have to. Physics is in the opposite direction,” Jon muttered. At the small silence, he drew his attention to Lucas who had one brow raised and eyes asking: “How dumb can you be?” He dropped his head again, taking interest in the expensive shoes of one of the girls. “Thank you, Lou.”

They didn’t speak again until Lucas was hugging Jon goodbye outside the music storeroom. “You’re gonna be fine, okay? You don’t have to talk to the guys. If anything, speak to Suni: you know she won’t pry. The hour will be done soon and just walk with someone to English. Keep your head down and no one will notice you.” He spoke into Jon’s hair and the bell rung through the halls with perfect timing. “I’ll see you at recess, yeah?”

A short nod. The two let go of each other and Jon stepped into the music storeroom, breath held in his lungs: too valuable to release. A few students dawdled, early to the class like him, and he ducked into the main room in search of Ms Rathe. When he stepped into the room, his eyes flew the space in the middle, a few metres from the piano. There was no sign of anything. No blood. No flower petals. No remnants of what had ever happened at Tuesday noon.

But the cold rush that spread through his blood burned him as he stepped back into the storeroom and pressed a hand to his middle.

He felt _winded_. The heels of white shoes. Snarling grins. Sickening threats and slurs and promises.

Only two layers of clothing separated his hand and the ugly bruise on his tummy.

“Jon?”

He whipped his head around, broken out of his thoughts, out of the memory. Brian stood in disbelief, eyes wide and blue and full of surprise.

He was speechless, and guilt pooled in Jon’s stomach when he turned away and shut the door between him and his friend. He didn’t glance back, didn’t hesitate, didn’t even think about facing the boy. Brian didn’t call out for him again.

Jon didn’t even let himself look at the room.

_Knock. Knock._

“Come in.”

He stepped into the office and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Jonathon?” The music teacher stood, smile on her face. “Haven’t seen you all week- has everything been alright?”

His lips twitched, something like a smile crawling onto his face.

_Don’t look at my face. Don’t look too close._

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve just been ill. I was wondering if I could grab the sheet music or any other papers I’ve missed since Tuesday?” He kept his eyes on the desk as the woman nodded.

“Sure thing, Jonathon. Don’t stress about today, just do what you can and catch up tonight.”

He hesitated, not wanting to leave the room so soon. He could hear the bustle outside where students collected to set up their instruments. Nerves fizzled in his throat.

“Also, I’m sorry,” he muttered, “Do you have a spare bow? I, uh… I broke mine over the weekend and haven’t had time to get it fixed.” Hesitantly, his eyes lifted, meeting the stony hazel gaze that seemed to assess his anxious face.

There was a moment of silence where he contemplated booking it and running from the school, running home. But she turned, stepping through a doorway into a room Jon hadn’t ever seen the insides of. “Come through.” He did, not looking around. “Pick whichever one you would like.”

A drawer clicked open and the thin teacher stepped away, allowing Jon to see the number of bows lined up inside. He didn’t waste time, grabbing a random one and mindlessly running his finger along the hairs.

“Thank you, Ms. I’ll get- get caught up as soon as I can,” he rushed, backing out and towards the closed door. She nodded, sparing him a last analytic look before turning back to her desk.

“Get yourself set up.”

He closed the door quietly behind him. _Invisible. Invisible. Invisible._ Eyes on the floor, he traced his steps back around the curve of the room’s wall to the storeroom. _Invisible. Invisible._ There was no denying the few pairs of eyes that followed his hasty escape, papers held to his chest.

It was his mistake to look up, meeting Suni, Craig and Brian’s curious, confused stares for only a moment each. He ducked back into the empty storeroom and fell to his knees in front of his case.

 _Not so invisible._ His breath wheezed, hands on the cold concrete and eyes squeezed shut. It took him a few seconds to flick to latches on his case, fingers shaking and teeth digging into his bottom lip. He counted his breaths, the room counting with him. The soft playing of different instruments started up next door, muffled by the soundproof walls. Nothing was loud enough to cover the babbling thoughts in his head.

Or so he thought, until the storeroom door squeaked open and every thought he held went silent. He didn’t move, studying his violin. It greeted him with nothing different and he took his time easing it from the case.

“Jay?”

_Oh._

Anxiety jumped in his throat, heart racing in an uncontrollable panic as thoughts scattered his head too fast to read. Trying to calm himself was futile but he couldn’t avoid turning, pushing himself up to his feet.

His knuckles were white around the neck of the violin. His knees shook.

“H-hi Evan.”

The punk stood still, the same surprise that had decorated Brian’s face worn on his. He just stared, unbelieving. A week had been such a long time-

Jon barely tracked the long steps between them before Evan had his arms around the shorter boy and his face tucked into Jon’s hair. There was no denying the sense of safety that encompassed him along with the strong arms and Jon’s racing heart quietened.

Panic settled. He closed his eyes. Deep breath in.

Jon wanted to memorise the smell of Evan’s cologne.

“I missed you.” He didn’t even know he was saying anything before the words mumbled themselves against Evan’s shoulder. The silence of the room gave them peace and Jon found himself holding back tears. Kyle’s voice appeared in his thoughts for half a moment and he couldn’t suppress the shudder.

The arms around him tightened, unwilling to let go. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” Evan murmured, lips pressing to Jon’s temple before he reluctantly pulled back. Jon felt too shy to meet his eyes. “You are okay, right?”

He bit back the pain. “Yeah, of course.” Words that stung his bitten lips on the way out. He couldn’t bear the guilt of Evan’s open honest stare any longer and slowly moved past him. There was no problem with their fingers interlocking as he led the boy to the main door. “C’mon. I have to tune my violin.”

Evan hovered for a moment once inside the room, the punk obviously not wanting to move away from Jon’s side. As reassuring of a smile that the brunette could manage, he ushered Evan towards his piano and sat himself in with the rest of the violinists.

His eyes didn’t go any further than his instrument and the sheet music. He pretended he couldn’t feel the three sets of eyes on him and only relaxed in his seat when Ms Rathe stepped in and started the lesson, the wary eyes turning away.

The hour passed quickly. Jon played very little, mostly learning the songs by ear and sheet music. The sound chased off his thoughts, finally loud and bright enough, and it was almost upsetting when the lesson came to a close.

There was no time for lingering though, being the first one out of the room and packing up. He clipped up his instrument, tucked away the bow and ran… straight into Craig.

Not fast enough.

“Woah, Jon!” The brunette stumbled back, Suni and Brian hovering close too. “Hey, calm down – we’re not mad at you!” Jon faltered.

Suni stepped up, laying a hand on his shoulder. He glanced down. “Lucas said you were coming today, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Short. Choked up. There was no way any of his friends believed him for a second and he flinched back at the harsh laugh that left Brian’s tongue.

“Bullshit, ye are.” There was no hiding the resent in those pale eyes and Jon took another step back.

Suni turned to glare at the Irish boy, before softening her eyes when they returned to Jon. “We don’t want to-” He ducked away from her touch, side-stepping and putting more space between them. Hurt glinted in her gaze, words caught.

“I- I’m sorry. I’ll see you guys at recess. I’ve got- I’ve gotta get to English.”

There was no waiting to see the confusion in their eyes. Or pain. Or insult. Whatever it was, Jon didn’t want to see it. He didn’t wait to see if any of the three tried to stop him. Out the door, down the hall: head down, walking fast.

He was the first one at English, the only other students he knew in the class being Steven, Simone and Marcel. Taking the back corner’s seat, he didn’t look at anyone. No one looked at him. No one took the seat beside him.

“Hey Jon, you’re back!” Simone was the first to acknowledge him, plopping down in the seat in front of him with a wide grin on her face. “Evan’s been moping around all week without you – it’s good to have you here again.”

He couldn’t help the genuine smile on his face at her words, her cheerfulness never once overstepping its welcome. “Thank you, Simone. I missed him too.” Honest words. The silver ball in her lip glinted as she smiled, Marcel strolling down the aisle.

“Hey Love, ‘sup Jon?” The punk straddled his seat, dropping a kiss to his girlfriend’s head and facing the flower-wearing boy. “Where’ve you been, man? Evan’s been whining about you all week not bein’ here.”

That feeling returned: dread collecting like honey on his tongue.

Simone scowled, swatting at his arm. “Don’t pry, Marcel. It’s none of our business.” Her chastising was still soft, words light and ever-friendly. It was easy to feel comfortable around her and the ugly taste on his tongue seemed just a small bit easier to swallow under her eyes. “Don’t you worry about anything, Jon. You take your time with things.” She pointed at Marcel, teasing smile. “And you. Don’t be nosy.”

Jon giggled, Marcel rolling his eyes at her. “Alright, alright, Grandma. Don’t lose your knitting needles.” He sent a sly smirk to Jon who bit back his laugh.

Simone squawked at the comment. Rosy cheeks of embarrassment: “Don’t make fun of my knitting, you ass!” She snatched up her book, smacking him over the head with it as he ducked for cover and snickered.

Jon hid his laughter behind his hand, feeling warm and fuzzy just being around the two. It wasn’t often that he witnessed a true love and theirs reminded him so much of his moms’. He couldn’t help the glow of joy that filled him knowing how pure their relationship was. He couldn’t help but be overjoyed that Scotty was a part of it too.

Marcel caught his attention, holding Simone’s hands down as she huffed and grumbled. The glimmer in his eyes was honest and kind. “Let us know if you need anything or anyone, okay? We know how people in this dump of a school tend to be assholes. And I know that we might be assholes too, but we’re not nasty assholes. We’re… considerate assholes! You don’t gotta feel pressured or anything but you’re welcome to have lunch with us anytime, as long as you don’t make Evan come in his pants again…”

“Again!?” Jon blurted, eyes wide.

Simone snorted. “He’s fuckin’ with you.” He exhaled in relief, not wanting to think about anything like that in fear of the bright red face he was trying to prevent. “But everything else he said was true. Feel free, anytime,” she said and Jon nodded, smiling.

“Thank you. I really appreciate that.” The two nodded, sharing a smile. 

The teacher cleared her throat, attention drawing to her. Marcel spun in his chair and Simone shared one last grin with Jon before also facing the front.

The warmth in his chest remained for the hour and he littered a whole page of his notebook with little flower scribbles and love hearts.

-

**_Monday, 9:51._ **

**Het - > Mom, Slave Driver, Slut, Dat Boi, Bitch Boi, and sPunk. **

**Het:** saw jon first period and he ran away from brian suni and me…

 **Mom:** :(

 **Slave Driver:** yup

 **Bitch Boi:** mhm

 **Dat Boi:** he’s probably scared guys

 **Bitch Boi:** we’re his friends? why would he be scared of us?

 **Dat Boi:** yo

 **Dat Boi:** he’s had a shit week. give him a break

 **Slave Driver:** i guess

 **Mom:** He hasn’t told us anything.

 **Dat Boi:** hell be at break

 **Bitch Boi:** will he

 **Dat Boi:** he will.

 **Dat Boi:** but you cant ask him heaps of questions

 **Bitch Boi:** lucas we haven’t heard from him ina whole week

 **Bitch Boi:** and u want us to just move on like nothing changed

 **Dat Boi:** i want u to respect him and he’ll tell us wht he wants when he wants to

 **Mom:** … mmm

 **Bitch Boi:** we’ll see

 **Dat Boi:** brian dont be a dick

 **Bitch Boi:** lucas jon has two moms he doesnt need a third

 **Slave Driver:** both of u chill the fuck out and go to class

 **Bitch Boi:** k

-

Jon was fine. He wasn’t worried, wasn’t scared at all! He definitely wasn’t panicking and the walk to the cafeteria his hands were clasped together because he was cold, not because they were shaking.

When he slipped through the double doors, he stood just to the side of the stream of people for a few moments, eyes cast to the table he always sat at: Brian, Suni, Brock and Lucas already sitting and chatting. Scotty and Craig could both be spotted in the queue for the canteen, and no one noticed him; no one even glanced in his direction.

He squeezed his fingers, focusing on his breathing for a long moment.

Maybe he wasn’t so fine. _Just go. You can’t avoid this any longer_ , he told himself and exhaled slowly. _Now or never_.

Brian was the first one to spot him, blue eyes locking onto the fear in Jon’s timid frown. The Irish boy stayed silent but held his gaze. Bitterness hovered in his grimace and half of Jon just screamed: “Turn and run!” He held himself there, placing foot after foot.

Suni’s eyes lifted to him next, slight shock held back with reluctance. Then Lucas, noticing Brian’s relentless stare before looking to its source.

Brock was last. Not until Jon was shyly dragging his chair back from the table. Wide brown eyes glanced up to him, before the cheap plastic chair he’d been sitting on fell to the floor and Brock’s arms were thrown tightly around Jon’s thin frame.

Jon’s spine locked up, frozen still. His bruising ached. The pressure around his arms and squeezing his back and shoulders wasn’t all that pleasant, but a relieving warmth bloomed between them.

 _He doesn’t hate me_.

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t think. He didn’t even realise he had the words on his tongue before they were out, clattering to the hard cafeteria floor over Brock’s shoulder. He cast his eyes to Brian and Suni who both held their emotions hidden neatly away. “I’m sorry for… hiding.” He spoke to all of them.

Holding his tears at bay took far too much effort and by the time Brock pulled back, to press a kiss to John’s head, the look in Brian’s eyes was no longer so bitter. He gave a small sigh, as the two sat down, Craig appearing with a wary look. Brock’s chair stayed close alongside his and Jon kept his eyes on his hands. He didn’t know who to look at. He didn’t know what to say.

“Why did ye then?” The bitterness wasn’t all gone. “Hide. Why did you?”

Lucas cleared his throat. It was impossible not to notice how differently Jon was behaving. Whether it was what had happened to him on the previous Tuesday or merely the hours and hours of being by himself. The fear of what his friends thought of him, the fear of running into violence again, the fear of a lot of things. Whatever it was, it was noticeable.

Big blue eyes that darted from face to face to the table again, fingers that constantly played with the hem of his hoodie, the little frown that seemed to have printed itself on his lips permanently. Every movement, every loudly spoken word, had him shying: dropping his gaze, ducking his head.

The once confident and overly happy Jon no longer sat before them.

“Leave him alone, Brian,” Lucas said.

The Irish boy glared. “Jon’s not a baby, Lucas. He can speak for himself.” Jon could feel the heaviness of his bruising at the base of his throat, pressing down, testing his limits. _Keep quiet_ , it told him: a voice that sounded much too alike Kyle’s for him to handle.

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t?” Pressure. Pressure. Pressure.

“I don’t want to!” The words forced themselves from his throat, eyes snapping open. Brian’s brows rose, not expecting the tone of desperation. Of fear, raw panic. “I will! I will tell you guys, I… I promise. Just not now – please.”

He didn’t realise his heart was beating so fast until he swallowed his words and heard it thump in his ears. Fingers clasped, he clenched his teeth and forced his head down again.

There was a long moment of silence, Scotty pulling out a chair but holding his tongue. Tense air shrouded them. Unspoken words, unspoken questions. Jon could feel them eating at his sane mind.

“I’m sorry,” he forced out again, but this time, kept his eyes closed.

“Don’t be.” Suni’s voice was gentle and honest, words following a sigh. She spoke slow and easy. “We won’t push you anymore. As much as we want to know what happened, we won’t force you to talk about anything you don’t want to. We’re… we’re just happy you’re back, Jon.”

Brock hummed in agreement and Jon didn’t object when Lucas tugged at his arm, forcing him to release his white-knuckled hold on himself. He let comforting fingers thread between his.

“You take as much time as you want,” Lucas said, smile heard in his voice as Jon sighed, trying to expel as much tension from his body as he could. The pad of Lucas’ thumb rubbed small circles into the back of his hand.

“’m sorry,” Brian mumbled.

“Just promise us you won’t disappear again, okay?” Scott’s voice was quiet, but loud enough to draw Jon’s eyes up. Unspoken words: “We missed you”, “We were so worried”, “Don’t make us scared for you like that again, please”.

Jon relaxed his jaw, feeling it ache still from how tightly he had been gritting his teeth. Shaky and uncertain, he managed a nod. “Okay,” he choked out, seeing little smiles lift on his friend’s lips in relief. “I won’t, I promise.”

The hand in his squeezed lightly and Brock handed the boy a small tub of strawberries. “Eat something,” he urged and Jon knew better than to refuse.

His friends, comforted even just a small bit, fell into conversation, chatting about shoes and the week’s plans. They didn’t bother Jon with anymore questions, they didn’t force him to speak: they chatted away, open and inclusive, and allowed him to feel safe with them.

He was fine with that: more than fine. That was all he could ask for now. To be safe.


	27. don't leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY   
> YALL WONT BELIEVE IT  
> A FUCKIN CHAPTER OH MY G O D  
> im actually. gonna finish this shit. no matter if its awful quality, im gonna damb finish it  
> so heres my step towards that. im sorry again for the H U G E wait and i hope it will all be worth it. we have some h2ovanoss action here which is soft. we'll get some terrornuckel soon too. and maybe a few hints of the others as well - we'll see.   
> but theres probaly 5-7 chapters left and i am determined to finish them. 
> 
> ANOTHER NOTICE AT THE END:

**27.**

 

Jon shared his next class with Craig and Suni: Photography.

Thankfully it was a rather calm class and his two friends had warmed up considerably to him. There was a heavy sense of forgiveness for his flight in music and they both found a spare moment to share a genuine apology for freaking him out.

“Whatever happened, we’re still your best friends. Nothing’s changed.”

He let the words repeat themselves as many times as he needed. He told himself to believe them. With that sense of comfort, the class went by quickly and they were on their way back to the cafeteria.

Evan was already sitting with Jon’s friends when he got there and just catching the punk’s eye had warmth exploding in his chest, growing and building and spreading throughout him. Brock shot his friend a knowing look and Jon offered a timid smile as he approached the table, lifting a hand to adjust his flower crown under the pretty gaze of Evan.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” Evan’s smile did wonders and the nerves that buzzed like bees in Jon’s chest quietened instantly when warm tan fingers lifted to link with his. A small gesture that did a lot: worry no longer lingered in his bright blue eyes. “Wanna walk with me?” His question was open for rejection, casual and patient. He gave J        on all the room to refuse.

Hesitating a moment, blue eyes slid to the table, his friends organising themselves with their food. He caught Lucas’ eye, his gleaming grin, and took the sly wink as a “go ahead” from him. “Do you guys mind?” he offered, not exactly wanting to ditch his friends on his first day back unless they were fine with it.

Brian blinked up at them, shrugging. Scotty smiled. “As long as you’re here tomorrow and for the rest of the week and don’t mysteriously vanish off the Earth, go for it.” Suni laughed with her words, not too serious with her teasing.

But there were no complaints so Jon nodded, tugging on the punk’s hand. “Thanks!”

Evan stood, pulling his bag onto his back. He let go of Jon’s hand to get it over both shoulders and the slight disappointment in Jon’s chest dissipated when long fingers immediately intertwined with his again once free.

He was surprised he didn’t melt to the cafeteria floor at Evan’s warm smile. The bees in his lungs stirred with excitement instead of nerves at the few stray gazes that watched them leave the large room. Their linked hands weren’t exactly subtle and it wasn’t “normal” to see the punk hanging out with such a soft pretty-boy kid like Jon. It was _very_ abnormal to see them holding hands.

But the small display of affection paled in comparison to sharing a kiss out the front of school the previous week. The thought ran around Jon’s head as they passed down the hall. A number of people had seen the kiss and everyone knew how their school liked to gossip. He would’ve been surprised if they weren’t a common topic to some students, homophobic or not.

He wondered who would have the balls to openly ask about it. Maybe not him, maybe his friends. But with his friends and with Evan, he didn’t have so much to be scared of… did he? After that level of beating he knew he wouldn’t get caught by himself again: he could be more careful. He could be safer. He didn’t want to hide.

His thoughts rolled over that kiss again as Evan held the door open for him, letting them both out onto the grass. The feeling of their lips together, the little smile: proud and thoughtless. The feeling of not giving a shit about what anyone tried to say about them.

“What’s got you so deep in thought?”

Jon blinked, but didn’t think twice about answering, “You.” Warm eyes, rich smile, careful touch. He glanced up at Evan, the punk pulling him to a stop by one of the old benches.

The fingers between Jon’s squeezed, easing him closer: chest-to-chest. “What about me?” he asked, mischief glimmering in his dark eyes.

Jon rolled his own baby blues, an arm curling around his back and drawing him even closer. “Oh, it’s not important,” he said, trying to hide his smile in his teasing. He was addicted to the way Evan’s lips pulled back into a grin; the way his eyes glimmered in humour.

The punk hummed in thought. “Humour me.” His words drifted from his lips barely louder than a whisper. Evan’s head tilted, dark eyes fluttering as they followed the curve of Jon’s lips.

He watched them turn up into a smile. “Hm… It might have somethin’ to do with this.” The soft whisper had barely any space to escape from between the two boys’ lips and neither hesitated. Hesitation had caused them enough problems in the past.

Evan’s lips were gentle. Jon had noted it before and he noted it again as the punk unlinked their hands and lifted his fingers to the line of Jon’s jaw.

He forgot about everything else. He forgot about Kyle. He forgot about the bruises painting his skin. He forgot about everything except the way Evan kissed him and the way his heart soared.

“I missed you,” the punk murmured against his lips. His hands slipped around Jon’s back, ghosting over bruised skin and pulling him close. He pressed a kiss to the boy’s forehead just below the pretty purple roses. “Not having you here has been… it’s been hard not to notice. I don’t want you to disappear again.”

Jon nodded against his shoulder, pain blooming in his heart, fighting against the warmth of being surrounded by Evan’s affection. “I won’t,” he whispered. “I swear.”

The two released each other and Evan tugged Jon down to sit beside him. The bench was cold and needed to be repainted. Neither cared. Jon leant against the punk’s side.

A silence settled. Blue eyes trailed the two small birds dancing around each other against the sky spotted with clouds.

“Do you want me to not ask?” His eyes fell away from the birds. Evan exhaled slowly, picking out his words with enough thought and care. “Because I won’t push you to talk about anything you don’t want to talk about, but I’m still worried and confused. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Jon turned, meeting pretty, brown eyes. “I’m okay, Evan.”

And maybe it showed too much in his eyes, Evan’s calloused fingertips brushing against his cheek. “But I know that you aren’t,” he whispered. “I know something happened that you’re not talking about and I know it hurt you – I can hear it and see it in the way you walk and talk. I don’t want you to lie to me.”

He closed his eyes. They gave away too much. “I don’t wanna lie to you. I just… I don’t want to talk about it for now. Can we forget? Please?” Lips replaced those fingertips and he leaned into the touch.

“Okay.” Not happy with the outcome but accepting it. “For now.”

Jon hummed. “So what’d I miss?”

-

The two dawdled their way to History, not wanting to be split as they took their time. The two Anthony’s behind them chattered all class as they cruised through their joined project, Evan helping Jon catch up.

They didn’t mention anything about his disappearance again and listening to Evan’s voice helped his mind drift away from those memories. It was exactly what he needed.

But as Jon knew, good things didn’t always last that long. The bell rung and the two boys stepped out of class, Evan promising to walk Jon to his next. Anthony caught the punk’s sleeve. “I’ll be right behind you, Jay; gimme two secs.”

The punk listened to Anthony ramble for a few moments, watching the boy he adored as he walked away. Jon barely noticed himself zoning out, until a rough hand latched onto his arm. He looked up. Hazel.

 _Panic_.

Cruel grin, a snarl hidden from public sight as hazel eyes examined him closely. His grin widened. “Y’know, _Jay_ , you’re lookin’ pretty pale…” The asshole drew a finger down Jon’s cheek, pastel boy frozen in terror. Kyle looked at his finger, the pigment of Jon’s makeup collected on his print. “Are you sure this is your colour?”

He held his glare for an extra moment, before releasing his arm with a small shove. He turned and continued walking. Jon held his place, eyes wide, heart racing.

Evan watched, eyes dark with anger and clouded with fear. The way Kyle had touched him, the fear in Jon’s eyes: there had to be more that he didn’t know and he couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with Jon’s mystery disappearance.

But before he could wonder for long, Jon turned on his heel and took off down the hall, walking fast and pushing into a run. He wound his way through the crowds, head ducked down and voice quiet. No one say the little tears running down his cheek as he slammed into the bathroom door and stopped in front of the sinks.

Heat. Heart racing. Head heavy. He could hardly breathe: water, he needed water.

Thankfully the bathroom was empty, as he turned on the tap and splashed his face with water. The sound masked his sobbing but he felt each one tear up his throat.

Hazel eyes.

Crooked sneers.

Expensive white shoes.

He choked on a gasp, splashing his face more. He needed to calm down, he needed to get a grip.

“Breathe, Jon,” he hissed to himself, digging his fingers into the metal of the basin. “You’re okay, you’re okay: don’t panic.”

When he lifted his head, he realised his mistake as he stared at himself in the mirror, water dripping down his neck, tinted the colour of his skin.

The door opened. He turned away.

 _Fuck_.

He had forgotten about the make-up, he had forgotten about his bruises. “Jay? Jay, what was that? Why did he-” Evan stopped short, noticing how the boy cowered with his hands over his face. He took a second. “What did he say to you?” he asked, voice low and protective.

Jon could _hear_ the boiling anger in his voice. “Evan, please. He said nothing, it’s fine- you need to leave me be-”

A hand came to rest on his shoulder, turning him. “I’m not leaving you alone again. Jay, let me see your face.” He shook his head.

“Evan, you can’t-”

“Jay, please.” Careful hands on his wrists. Tears were falling down his cheeks and when he let his hands fall he saw that anger turn to rage. Dark eyes rolled over his face, over the fear in his crying eyes, over the bruising beneath them and over his nose, over the bruising of his cheek, the split lips he didn’t notice. Cold, dark, furious. He let his fingers brush against the dark bruise of his cheek, watching the way Jon flinched back. “He did this?” A icy whisper.

Jon’s hands came to Evan’s shirt. “Evan, no, you don’t-”

“He did this to you? On Tuesday, right?” His jaw muscles clenched, the punk never having looked so terrifying before. Jon hadn’t seen him angry. Jon didn’t like seeing him angry. “And you didn’t say anything, you didn’t tell us?”

Jon pursed his lips, tears following tears as he shook his head. A sob escaped his throat. He gripped Evan’s shirt tighter and a hand came to his wrist, pulling them apart.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.” Jon clenched the fabric in his fists. “Jon, let go.”

“Please, Evan.” He pressed his face into Evan’s shoulder.

“Let go, Jon. I’m not gonna let-”

“Please don’t leave me.” Desperate, scared. The boy shook as he held onto Evan and the anger fell back in realization.

Realization of how terrified Jon was. Of how completely alone he was, of how much pain he was in. He didn’t want to be alone, the last thing he wanted was for people to leave him alone again. He didn’t want Evan to walk away.

Toned arms circled him. They reached around his shoulders and pulled him tight, Jon’s face staying against his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” the punk murmured, lips against his temple. “I’m so fucking sorry. You didn’t deserve this, you don’t deserve anything like this.”

Jon shattered. His arms wrapped weakly around the boy he loved, fingers gripping his jacket and body heaving with sobs.

“I’m not gonna leave you alone again. I’m not, I _swear_ it, okay?” He eased back, analyzing the tears seeping down Jon’s cheeks. “We’re gonna get out of here and I’m gonna take you home. And I’m gonna spend the night with you and take care of you and you don’t have to be here, or alone at home. You can stay with me and we can forget about _everything_ , okay? Do you wanna do that?”

Jon sniffled, feeling much like a child as he nodded and failed to swallow back a sob. “Okay,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Okay.”

Evan didn’t speak much as they walked. He kept his arm around Jon’s waist and placed kisses to his temple here and there. No one bothered them and they drove in silence. Jon found nothing more comfortable than having his arms curled around Evan’s middle, helmet leant against his shoulder.

He only realised it was the first time he’d ever been to Evan’s house when they pulled up in front of a house he’d never noticed before, a few streets down from his own. He hopped off the bike and Evan hooked both of their helmets onto the bike. “Are you feeling a bit better?” he asked, pulling Jon close again.

The punk loved the proximity.

Jon nodded, murmuring a small: “A bit,” into his shoulder.

Evan found his hands, linking fingers in one and tugged him towards the front door. “C’mon, let’s get you clean and in more comfy clothes.” His lopsided smile had warmth brewing im Jon’s chest and he followed without a word.

He marvelled at the prettiness of the house, dropping his bag beside Evan’s and kicking his shoes off at the door. They walked together to the bathroom. The room was spacious, a tall shower and a big bath both looking shiny clean. Jon blinked in surprise.

“Do you wanna clean up?” Evan asked, running his fingers down Jon’s arm. “We can have a bath if you’d like because the shower pressure can be quite strong-”

The brunette’s face had successfully gone bright rosy red in a matter of seconds. “W-we?” he asked and the same colour spread up Evan’s neck. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to say that.

“I- I mean, we don’t have to have a bath _together_ ,” he stammered. “We, uh- If you don’t want to, that is. You- I can leave you alone.”

The thought made him shudder, not wanting to be away from the boy. He didn’t think too hard, stepping into Evan’s space and winding his arms around Evan’s middle. With red cheeks, he hid his face in Evan’s chest. “Don’ leave me alone. You can- I- I mean, I’m happy for you to stay,” he murmured.

The flower crown was lifted from his head, lips pressing to his scalp. “If you want me stay, I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. He stepped away and pressed a chaste kiss to Jon’s lips, the boy unable to lower the boiling red from his cheeks.

Evan turned the taps on, testing the temperature and adding a fair amount of soap to the bath. They both watched bubbles rise, a sense of awkward tension between them. Dark brown eyes roamed Jon for a moment, sitting above pink cheeks.

“Are you comfortable with this?” he asked, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Jon frowned in pride, blue eyes glimmering. “I’m comfortable! I’ve never been more comfortabler.”

“Comfortabler?” Evan’s brow raised, little smirk pulling at his lips. He tugged his shirt up over his head and huffed a laugh when Jon’s frown gave way to rosy-cheeked staring. “You sure?” he cooed, stepping closer and unbuttoning his fly. “You seem a little nervous.”

Jon’s eyes remained wide as ever, swallowing thickly. “M- me? Nervous? N- uh, nope!” He took a small step back. Evan grinned.

He slipped his fingertips inside the waistband of Jon’s jeans, tugging him close and dipping down to press a kiss just below his ear. “Not a little scared?” he mumbled, breath rolling over Jon’s ear and making him shudder.

He felt like he was about to melt into the ground. “No!” he squeaked, pushing Evan away and glaring with red cheeks, neck and ears as the punk snickered. “You asshole, don’t- don’t tease me!” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

The punk smirked, proud of himself and Jon’s fluster. He turned to the bath, bubbles reaching high and sweet smell of lavender filling the air. He turned off the taps and Jon spun around as he slipped his jeans down his legs with his boxers, flashing the brunette a glimpse of his ass. Pale hands covered Jon’s face.

Evan laughed loudly as he settled into the steaming water. “I’m covered, princess; don’t lose your panties,” he teased. Blue eyes turned hesitantly but thankfully found the punk hidden by mountains of bubbles. Dark eyes examined him. “Are you gonna come in in your clothes or…”

Had he mentioned that his face was red? Because he was starting to look like a tomato with how bluntly his embarrassment showed on his face. “No, I jus- I just, uh… Close your eyes!” he demanded and Evan tipped his head back with a grin. “I mean it! You gotta close your eyes or I’ll- I’ll leave.”

Bubble covered hands raised in surrender, turning to cover his eyes obediently. “Go ahead, ma’am.”

Jon grunted in annoyance, stripping his shirt and jeans. He flinched at the sight of himself in the mirror. There was no hiding the bruising. His joy drained, light feeling crumbling to the heaviness of his sickening thoughts. Bruise, bruise, bruise.

Slipping out of his boxers, he stepped lightly to the bath and hopped in, sinking down. Thankfully, the bubbles reached up to his shoulders and he sunk back, his legs fitting on the insides of Evan’s, glaring at the punk through the bubbles.

“May I open my eyes now?” he asked, grin still teasing.

Jon grunted. “Fine.”

Brown eyes glimmered. They fought off Jon’s ill feelings, battled the negativity that swelled in his thoughts. It wasn’t an easy fight.

Evan noticed. “Are you okay, Jon?” he asked, reaching a hand for his and finding pale fingers in the mess of steam and bubbles. “Is- is everything okay?”

Nervous smile. Short nod.

Evan frowned, shuffling forward more into Jon’s space, sitting in between Jon’s knees with his legs either side of Jon. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, reaching hesitantly for Jon’s shoulder. He didn’t get a response, but blue eyes fluttered closed and lips pressed eagerly to his.

“You don’t have to ask,” he murmured, mid-kiss as he inhaled, running his wet fingers through Evan’s dry hair. “Never gotta ask.”

Evan smiled against his lips, drawing back. “Well, I like to be polite, y’know-” He was cut off as fingers curled around the back of his neck and pulled him close, Jon silencing him with his own lips.

“Evan,” he mumbled, tugging on his hair lightly. “Just shut up an’ kiss me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have started another story! A big project which I've been planning for a very long time: my zombie apocalypse story, Apocalyptic. 
> 
> I would really really appreciate you guys giving it a read (or what's there of it so far) and seeing how you like it: i really really want it to lift off because i know it's something that will interest this fandom and i am confident in my quality to keep the story going well.   
> im pouring my heart and soul into this thing: im pretty determined. 
> 
> but yes i would super duper appreciate you guys giving it a shot and seeing what you think. theres a lot more to come of it, a lot of characters, a lot of relationships; it'll be a pretty big and thick story.
> 
> either way, i hope you guys like it. i hope you guys like this chapter too, and like what i come out with next - im gonna delete the previous note because its not needed anymore and ill see how soon i can get the next chapter out  
> thanks again  
> love you guys a lot 
> 
> gracie 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/16140398/chapters/37710755  
> ^ apocalyptic ^


	28. steam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some jon/evan love  
> and some brock/brian love too because brock needs it and brian's a good boyfriend.

**28.**

 

The steam curled around them, the two settling into the heat as they grew used to each other’s company. It wasn’t easy to be naked in front of someone who made you so nervous but Jon used the bubbles to his advantage.

That was until Evan had been quiet for long enough, eyes written with thought. He studied Jon’s face. “Kyle hurt you, didn’t he,” he murmured, running his fingers along the inside of a pale hand. Jon ducked his eyes, lips pursed. “Tuesday? That’s why you vanished?” A short nod. Evan sighed, eyes resting shut for a long few moments. “How bad?” he whispered, opening his eyes with a hint of reluctance. “How much did you have to hide from us?”

Jon sunk lower into the water, shaking his head. He didn’t want the make-up to wash off his neck. He didn’t want his chest or tummy to lift above the water. He liked being hidden. He liked being protected.

“Jon. Let me take care of you.” A soft plead, eyes swollen with love. “Please.”

Blue eyes dropped to the water. A wish to dissolve. To disappear. To never have to deal with this. “It’s not good. I don’t wanna hurt you, you- you don’t gotta see it,” he murmured, knowing the punk wouldn’t give up.

“It’s not about me, it’s about you. You’re the one that needs taking care of: let me- please, can you let me wash your face?” Jon tried not to flinch as gentle fingers brushed against his cheek. “I don’t want you to keep hiding from me.”

He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to. He shouldn’t agree. He couldn’t agree.

It wasn’t fair on Evan.

“Okay,” he whispered, keeping his eyes rested shut. They stayed that way.

Evan drew closer, pressing a kiss to his cheek before letting a warm, wet cloth clean the make-up from his face. He tried not to flinch as it pushed on his cheekbone, or his nose. He tried not to pay attention to the sharp intakes of breath.

Then the cloth dipped lower. Jon hold his tongue, gritting his teeth and stretching his head up. It wiped along the length of his neck. He dipped it in the water, returning it to Jon’s throat again. Gentle, light brushes. The colour washed away to show the ugliness of hatred, of bruising, of abuse. Jon could feel the pain in shaking hands at his neck.

“He did this? Kyle?” Keeping his voice level was a challenge for the punk. Jon didn’t make a sound. He kept his eyes shut. A small silence. “Did he do anything else?” Jon grit his teeth. “Please tell me the truth, Jay.”

So he did. Carefully and slowly, he lifted himself up out of the water enough to expose his chest and tummy. The bruising glimmered with bubbles.

“I’m sorry,” Jon whispered, falling back into the water and opening his eyes. He didn’t get the chance to say anything else as a hand on his cheek pulled him close and lips pressed to his, warm and demanding. Demanding him to listen. Demanding him to understand.

They broke for a moment. “Never apologise for this,” Evan whispered, foreheads bumping. He fit their mouths together again, this time shuffling onto his hands and knees as Jon leaned back against the wall of the bath. Evan balanced half over him, running his tongue along Jon’s bottom lip.

Soft lips parted. A pierced tongue. Jon dissolved in the warmth, running his hands up to Evan’s neck, tangling in his hair.

Nothing better, nothing better. An addiction Jon would gladly fall into. He sighed against Evan’s lips as a rough hand slid up the outside of his thigh. His hips pressed up, feeling those fingers fit around his hipbone and burn a handprint into his skin. As his lungs ached and moaned, he tipped his head back and inhaled long and deep. Lips dropped down to his throat, his bruised skin. He let out the whisper of a whine.

Tender, gentle kisses. “I’m never… leaving you alone,” Evan murmured against his skin, rubbing his hip and pressing closer. “’m gonna kill him if he even looks your way again. He won’t touch you, he’ll never touch you again.”

Lips reached pale collarbones and played with the skin relentlessly. Kissing, sucking, biting. Jon’s cheeks darkened as he gasped, tummy twisting at the feeling of Evan’s tongue on his skin. “Evan-” he panted, tugging on the punk’s hair. The boy lifted, admiring the forming bruise he’d left behind before meeting Jon’s dazed blue eyes again.

He pressed in and slipped his tongue into Jon’s mouth. They kissed until they were both breathless, they kissed until their hearts were so loud they couldn’t hear anything else. Evan panted, eyes half-shut and lips swollen. “The only bruises anyone will be leaving on your skin from now will be from my mouth, an’ my mouth alone.”

Jon shuddered. His cheeks and shoulders were hot.

But Evan was done. He pressed his face into Jon’s shoulder, slipping down to half-lay, half-float between Jon’s legs. One arm wound around the boy’s back, the other holding them both up. “No one will lay a hand on you like that again,” he murmured, tone boiling and possessive.

Jon hummed softly, running his fingers through Evan’s hair as he focused on settling his beating heart. They both soaked in the heat for several more long minutes before the two had calmed down and their fingertips and toes were beginning to wrinkle. At a few low complaints from Jon’s tired tongue, Evan pulled the plug and raised up out of the water.

Jon’s hands stayed over his eyes. Evan laughed still and turned away when Jon stood up himself. They towelled themselves off before tying the towels around their waists. Jon could see the agony in rich brown eyes when they travelled down his chest, down yellow and purple smudges.

He didn’t mention anything. They’d said all that needed to be said.

Evan lead the boy down the hall, stepping into the bedroom and letting the door shut behind the two of them. He accepted the pair of boxers thrown at him and the baggy shirt, getting dress quickly and throwing his towel over Evan’s head when the punk hadn’t turned away.

He took both towels back to the bathroom, leaving the punk to organise his room for a moment, before returning and crawling atop the large bed. The room was big, the bed was wide, Jon fell back on the bed and sighed as the mattress welcomed him. He couldn’t help but notice how Evan’s pillows smelt of him, how his sheets smelt of him; every part of his body relaxed.

Evan’s eyes watched him. They shone with adoration. “I’d give you pants but I really don’t think any will fit you,” he commented, closing his drawer and dragging his feet over to the bed. He sat himself on the end as Jon sat up, legs outstretched.

The smile on his face was all Evan ever wanted to see. Warmth bled from his heart. He couldn’t help his own smile. “This shirt’s like a dress on me anyway- I’ll be fi- fine!” he chirped, reaching forward and curling his fingers around the punk’s wrist. He tugged him closer and Evan complied.

Calloused fingers danced up the length of Jon’s leg, teasing glimmer in his eyes as pale cheeks darkened in surprise. Evan kneeled between his shorter lover’s thighs, hand drifting beneath the hem of the shirt up and down the length of the boxer’s over his hip.

He balanced himself over Jon, one hand on the mattress. “Well lucky for us: there won’t be anyone to interrupt us now,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to Jon’s jaw as pale fingers slipped up his arm. Blue eyes fluttered in anticipation.

“That’s a first,” he mumbled, leaning up and pressing his lips to Evan.

This was an evening he knew he would enjoy, Evan’s touch only ever tender and caring. He would never overstep boundaries, he would never push Jon.

Jon felt nothing but safe beneath him.

 

-

 

They could see glimmers of the sunsets glow from the playground. It barely reached over the trees, showing soft oranges and pinks.

Brock watched them dance across the clouds in thought, rocking back and forth on the small swing. The toe of his shoe gave small half-hearted pushes against the ground to keep him moving, never much more than a slow sway.

His company sat on the floor with his legs outstretched, leaning back against the swingset frame. His blue eyes flickered between the colours, his boyfriend and his shoes.

The soft rosy colours mirrored on his pale cheeks, his thoughts dancing with uncertainties. He was nervous.

“Bri?” They shot back up to his boyfriend, subconscious smile flickering on his lips at the sight of Brock. He looked partially zoned out, eyes shimmering and face relaxed. Those shimmering eyes slid to Brian. “Do you think I’m a bad friend?”

Brilliant eyes blinked. Surprise. Shock. He hadn’t expected that and a number of different responses of such emotions ran through his head. “I- Ye- What?” he stammered. “Why would ye think that- Of course not, Brocky, you’re an amazin’ friend!”

Brock turned away. “I just… He hasn’t said anything. He hasn’t told any of us anything but Lucas, and I- I don’t know, I don’t know why he hasn’t told me what happened…” His words trailed off. The colours faded slowly from the sky. Light faded. He hung his head. “I just don’t know what I’ve done wrong…”

“Brock, ye haven’t done anything wrong: ye’re not a bad friend. Jon’s just goin’ t’rough something and it must be something he can’t talk about easily. But you can’t blame yerself for that, okay?” Brian stood, stepping in front of Brock who was no longer swinging. He sat still and kept his head ducked down. “You’re an amazin’ friend, an amazing boyfriend, and Jon will talk to you when he t’inks he should, okay? He will.”

A gentle shake of the head. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t there for him when he needed me. I haven’t been there for him enough and- and I haven’t been spending time with you either. I’m not a good friend and I’m not a good boyfriend.”

Gentle hands reached for Brock’s, curling fingers with his. “Brock, look a’ me.” Words soft and quiet. Brown eyes hesitantly lifted, unsure and concerned. “Listen t’me, okay? You’ve been sick. All last week, ye were sick, ye physically couldn’ be there for Jon at all and I know you did all ye could to try an’ call him. You called Alice, you talked to Evan: ye did everything you could but it was Jon’s choice to keep to ‘imself. That wasn’ you.” He carded his fingers through Brock’s hair, looking into his clouded eyes. He wanted Brock to hear him, he wanted Brock to understand. “An’ ye are the best boyfriend I could’ve asked for,” he murmured, hand returning to rest against Brock’s face. His thumb brushed against the boy’s cheek. “I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

Fingers wound around his wrist, tugging the hand away from Brock’s face. He looked down. “You should,” he murmured.

Brian leaned down and pressed his lips to Brock’s forehead, drawing dark eyes back up. “No. I shouldn’.”

“But your family-”

“I don’t give two shits about what they think. I’ve loved you for years as my best friend, ‘nd I love you now as my boyfriend. If my family have a problem with that they can fuck off. I’m not gonna change for them. I ain’t gonna pretend I don’ love you. Not for them, not for anyone.” Words and words and words. He didn’t even think as they rolled off his tongue. Things he wanted to say, things he needed to say. “You do so much for me, you’ve done so much for everyone over the years- We all love you so damn much so don’t ye say you aren’t good enough, ye hear me? You’re perfect.”

Brock’s lip trembled, eyes watering. His hand stayed on Brian’s wrist, the other lifting up to grab a fistful of Brian’s shirt.

He pushed up out of the swing, stumbling forward, and pressed his lips to Brian’s. It wasn’t neat or steady. It was hardly planned. And Brian had to take a step back to catch himself as he lifted his hands to either side of his boyfriend’s face.

“Brock,” he murmured against the boy’s lips, drawing back a second and catching a glimpse of Brock’s half-shut eyes.

Nothing to say. He brought him back in, fitting their lips together in a way that had a shiver running through both them. It was a touch they’d been waiting for for so long, one of Brian’s hands falling to Brock’s hip.

Kiss, kiss, kiss. They drew apart for small breaths, pecks becoming longer kisses, lips moving slowly, moving eagerly, moving lovingly. Brian’s thumb against Brock’s cheek was nothing but sweet.

When Brock eased back, the words: “I love you,” fell from his tongue like couldn’t help himself, not moving out of Brian’s space. “I love you, I love you so much. I’ve loved you for years and years and now I- I get to fall in love with you again.”

Brian’s smile only lasted a moment before eager, loving lips pressed to his again and he drowned himself in the kiss he shared with the boy he loved.

 

-

 

Jon let his moms know that he was staying at Evan’s for the night and the two complied without too much worrying. They could guess why, they could understand. Evan’s sister and parents weren’t going to be home for the night so the two did as they pleased: a combination of making out, playing Call of Duty and blasting music on Evan’s record player.

It was perfect. Jon was happy.

Sitting on Evan’s lap with the punk’s head on his shoulder, fiddling with controllers and hissing curses under his breath when the game didn’t go his way. Warmth. Comfort. Love. Jon loved nothing more than being able to turn around to face the punk and press their mouths together.

Nothing was so perfect.

They ate dinner together, listening to music and telling jokes. Brushing teeth, tidying up: falling into bed and laying side-by-side, staring up at the ceiling. Little plastic glow-in-the-dark stars and planets were glued to Evan’s ceiling and as the room grew darker, they grew brighter.

“They’ve been there since I was ten,” Evan explained at Jon’s giggling. “I don’t have the heart to take them down!” His giggles didn’t lessen. Evan propped himself up on one arm, smiling down at the boy. “Don’t laugh at me, asshole. They’re nice!”

“Do they help you sleep at night?” Jon cooed, laughing louder at the narrowed eyes above them. He laughed and laughed and laughed, hand raising to cover his mouth.

Evan’s watch was comfortable. When his giggles faded away, leaving a simple smile on his face, the words: “You’re beautiful,” slipped from Evan’s lips like water.

No words of response. Jon smiled against Evan’s lips and they kissed until they were simply too tired. They fell asleep together, Evan curled up around Jon, keeping him warm, keeping him safe. There was nowhere Jon would’ve rather been.

 

-

 

He woke up nice and early, on his back with Evan’s arms around him and leg hooked with his. The punk’s head was on his shoulder, breathing against his neck. Who knew the tall bad boy would be so cuddly?

Jon loved it. He pressed a kiss to Evan’s forehead, receiving a small mumble in response, before reaching for his phone. He snapped a picture, catching Evan’s closed eyes and the bottom half of his face grinning in his sleepiness.

-

**_Tuesday, 7:23_ **

**H2O - > Thirsty Hoes**

**H2O sent an image.**

**H2O:** :]

 **Slave Driver:** AWWW IM GONNA PUKE

 **Brock:** too cute

 **Dat Boi:** oh what the fuck that shits adorable

 **Slut:** :0

 **H2O:** took me home yesterday

 **Mom:** Oh, that’s why you weren’t in maths?

 **H2O:** yeah uhh

 **H2O:** talk today at lunch? all of u?

 **Mom:** sure thing

 **Slut:** definitely

 **Slave Driver:** yeah

 **H2O:** okay thank u guys

 **H2O:** and im sorry

 **Mom:** Don’t be

 **H2O:** I love you guys <3

 **Slave Driver:** we love u too jon

 **Slut:** <3

-

A kiss pressed to his bare shoulder, shirt so loose it’d slipped down his arm in the night. Jon blinked down at the sleep-dazed brown eyes and lazy smile. “Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmured, smiling into Evan’s bed-hair.

A sluggish: “Morning…” was murmured back before Evan shuffled closer and tucked his face into Jon’s neck. His breath rolled over pale collarbones and Jon melted against the punk as the arm around his middle tightened. “Stay…” Slurred and groggy. Brown eyes squeezing shut in refusal to accept that it was morning.

“It’s seven-thirty, Ev,” Jon murmured, running his fingers through the spikey black hair. “We gotta get up an’ I need to go home to get clothes.”

A grunt of disapproval, Evan shuffled even closer and leant some of his weight on Jon to keep him down. “No.”

Jon giggled. “Evaannn,” he whined, looking up at the little pale green stars. They no longer glowed as the sun shone through the curtains. “We can’t jus’ stay in bed all day,” he cooed, running his fingers up and down Evan’s back.

“Yes, we can.” A soft sigh, warm fingers slipping under Jon’s shirt to rest on his ribs. Skin on skin. Comforting. Jon hummed gently in disagreement, pulling a low groan from Evan. “Fine… five more minutes…” A lazy kiss to the point of his collarbone.

“I need to get clothes, Ev.”

“Wear mine.”

Oh. “A- are you sure that’s a good idea?” Big baggy punk clothes on small Jon would look pretty goofy. But he guessed he could wear his jeans from the day prior…

“Yes, now shhhh.”

Jon giggled but complied. Eyes resting shut and drifting in his thoughts with Evan’s breath on his neck.

By the time Evan really woke up, Jon was no longer in his arms and the mattress was growing cold beside him. A thump sounded from his walk-in closet and he lazily pushed his elbow up under him. “Jon?” he called, clearing the croak from his throat. “What’re you doin’?”

The door peaked open and blue eyes flashed in surprise. “Uhh, nothing?” he offered, shutting the door quickly again. Evan heard another grunt and a curse.

The sun washed over his bare feet as they crossed the carpet. A little smirk shaped his lips as he knocked on the door. “You okay in there?” He couldn’t help the laugh tumbling from his lips as he pushed the door open to find Jon finally yanking his jeans up over his hips.

He panted, blinking up at Evan and blushing as he turned his bare back to the punk. “I’m fine!” He did up his fly before turning to the range of shirts he had on offer. Blacks, blues… He jumped as tan arms wound around his middle and a kiss pressed to his shoulder.

“You’ll look good in one of my shirts,” Evan murmured, pressing his lips to the side of Jon’s neck. Jon flushed, crossing his arms over his tummy as Evan’s fingers played with the waistband of his jeans.

“Sh-shut up,” he muttered, wriggling out of Jon’s hold. “Jus’ gimme one of ‘em ‘nd… Wait, do you have six leather jackets!?”

Hands on his shoulders turned him, Evan’s laugh following as the punk lead him out of the closet. “Okay, okay: I’ll grab your shirt. No more of my closet.”

A black shirt fell over Jon’s face as he grinned. Pulling it on, he blinked at the mirror. It was a surprise, at the least: he couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn something black.

Evan closed the door, latching his arms around Jon before the boy could escape. “You’re so clingy!” Jon whined, accepting his capture. He really couldn’t complain.

A soft chuckle brushed his collar, exposed by the wide neck of the shirt. “Can’t keep my hands off you,” he mumbled, kissing the bruises up Jon’s throat. “Once these heal, I hope you know I’ll be leaving my own bruises up here,” he murmured and Jon groaned. Those lips trailed along his exposed collarbones. “An’ here too,” he whispered, smile felt against his skin.

Jon scrambled for words. Nothing. He shoved the punk off him, glaring at the knowing smile on his face. “Fuck you,” he muttered tugged his shirt up and turning his red face away.

Evan chuckled, trailing after him. “My sister will have make-up too. It might be a little darker than your skin-tone but I’m sure we can make it work if you wanna cover those up again today,” Evan said, following the boy to the stairs. “Go get yourself some breakfast, I’ll see what I can find,” he said, and Jon nodded as he disappeared into the kitchen.

The brunette stretched as he entered the large, glassy kitchen. Every surface was spotless, and he marvelled at just how clean and pristine the house was. With his two moms they struggled to keep it so tidy, but he never minded it.

The pantry opened to reveal shelves on shelves of food, a grin spreading over Jon’s face. By the time Evan walked into the kitchen, the boy had a large bowl of chocolate covered cereal and a glass of grape juice. The Canadian’s smile was fond as he rolled his eyes, dropping a series of different makeup products on the bench beside them.

“See if any of these might match your skin,” he mentioned, filling a bowl with the same chocolate cereal and sitting across from Jon. They ate mostly in silence, Jon swiping the different tones of concealer on his wrist.

The rest of the morning rolled by, Jon sitting on a stool in the bathroom while Evan messily dabbed makeup across his neck and beneath his eyes. Jon could see the job had been a lot better done by Lucas but he wasn’t going to complain as he tried to ignore the stinging pain of the bruises. In the black shirt, the discolouration wasn’t so noticeable and he forgot completely about the makeup after Evan pushed him against the bathroom wall and kissed him until he was breathless.

At eight-thirty, Evan tugged him out to his bike and they drove to school. They walked in together, an arm around Jon’s waist. Blue eyes stayed on the floor, too aware of the black shirt on him and the makeup that didn’t quite match his complexion.

Thankfully he could stay beside Evan, walking to the gym together for their sport class. “I can’t get over how good you look in black,” Evan murmured against Jon’s ear as they stepped inside and headed to where Marcel and Simone stood. The two grinned at the couple in greeting.

Simone’s eyes danced over Jon’s red cheeks, the rosiness muffled by the makeup. She didn’t mention it. “Jon in black? That’s unexpected,” Marcel remarked, grin broad and bright.

Evan grinned, arm tightening around him. Jon shrugged, nervous smile. “It’s Evan’s shirt, not mine.”

The bell rung through the air before the two punks could respond, meeting eyes in surprise and internal conversation. But the rest of their class slowly drew in and their attention drifted elsewhere. Particularly to Tyler, who stalked into the room with a glowering frown.

Jon shrunk back.

A bruise was blooming on the tall boy’s jaw, freshly delivered. But when he lifted his hands to push his hair out of his face, Jon’s gawked at the bruised and bloodied mess they were. Tyler looked like he had only taken one hit, but with knuckles like those it seemed he had given a lot more. Jon wondered to who, but kept his lips pursed as piercing blue eyes wondered his face for a moment.

“Let me know if there’s another problem,” he snarled, both shocking and confusing Jon to no end as he folded his arms and glared at the ground.

The smallest boy let out a short: “Okay.” Trying to stop his voice from breaking. He looked up at Evan, who didn’t give anything away in his dark eyes. Jon didn’t ask.

It seemed he didn’t need to as the class began, and the thought lingered at the back of his mind. Ten minutes late, the doors opened and Kyle walked in. Bruised, bloody. His face was a display of the beating he’d taken and he held an icepack to his nose. He kept his hazel eyes on the floor.

The teachers hardly acknowledged him.

Jon gawked, turning around to meet Tyler’s eyes. Piercing blue, they waited for his question. Hard. Unforgiving.

He’d done what he’d had to do.

A small smile pulled at Jon’s lips. “Thank you,” he murmured, quiet as to not be heard by anyone else. The hint of a smile tugged at Tyler’s lips too, a small nod of acknowledgement and a twinkle in his eye.

It was small but it was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Updates shouldn't be too spread or too close. 
> 
> Lots of love from your adoring author!
> 
> gi


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